


Causal Nexus

by drabbleswabbles



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2019-10-05 06:17:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 74,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drabbleswabbles/pseuds/drabbleswabbles
Summary: After a shot of tranquilizer to the neck and a near miss with a bat to the family jewels, Billy promises to stay out of Steve Harrington’s way and to never bring up that night again. The thing is, there’s only so many places to be in Hawkins and he’s always loved a good mystery.In other words: Billy and Steve find themselves seeing more and more of each other. Along the way they stumble their way into a couple of closets full of skeletons, not always metaphorically, and discover they might not hate each other after all.





	1. Chapter 1

               Billy woke up on the floor without a good recollection of how he’d ended up there. He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, which was when he remembered. Harrington, Max, Sinclair, a plate, a syringe, a bat full of nails. All of it flashed through his mind in a nauseating blur.

               _Fuck._

               All the lights were on. Smashed glass littered the floor and only some it was from the fight. Most of it was from a missing window. He couldn't take credit for that. And there was paper _everywhere_. Taped together scribbles in shades of blue and purple that someone had plastered all over the walls and floor. It looked like the house of someone who took serious drugs. Probably something strong enough they needed a syringe of tranquilizer at the ready.

               He stood up, dusted himself off, and looked around the place. His limbs felt heavy and stiff. He couldn’t hear anyone else in the house. He glanced down the long hallway. Empty. He went outside.

               _Fuck._

His car was gone.

               “Max!”

               He went back inside.

               “I swear to god,” he muttered. “Max!”

               No one answered. He looked at the clock on the wall, sat down on the coffee table, dropped his head into his hands, and tried to think over the pounding sound of his own heartbeat. It was six o’clock in the morning, or at least he hoped it was the morning and not the following night. He’d been knocked out for hours and Max was missing again. For the first time in a while he felt the kind of raw fear that made it hard to breathe. He forced cold air into his lungs.

               He knew the only reasonable solution to this situation. He had to call the cops. Logically, he also knew that nothing good could come of that. There were still traces of blood on the ground where he’d beat in Harrington’s face and messed up shelves from where he’d smashed Sinclair into them. It didn’t matter if drugs were involved. Harrington’s family would fork over the cash for a fancy lawyer to keep him out of any serious trouble. Rich people were good at that. They’d make sure he ended up behind bars. His other option was to go home and tell his father and Susan that not only had he not found Max, he’d somehow lost the car too. His father might actually kill him.

               Which made it an easy choice. He got up to look for the phone. He tripped over it on the way to the kitchen. Someone had torn it off the wall.

               _Fuck._

               He stomped on the earpiece and watched the yellow plastic crack and scatter on the floor. Mrs. Wheeler hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him the drive to this hellhole was dark. Maybe if he’d grown up around the woods, he wouldn’t mind walking all the way to town at this hour. But he’d grown up around the ocean where the moon or a beach bonfire always lit the way. Better to wait an hour or so until dawn than risk breaking his neck out there. 

               At least they hadn’t taken his smokes or his lighter. He went out to the porch and sat down on the steps. They were slimy with something that smelled weird. He couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. By the time he heard the roar of an engine he was on the last cigarette in the pack. He shielded his eyes and squinted into the headlights even though he didn’t need to see. He could hear that it was his Camaro.

               He crushed his cigarette into the small pile of ash and butts burned down all the way to the filter and stood up.

               Harrington got out of the car, bat full of nails in hand. “Is that you, Hargrove?”

               If the circumstances were different, he would’ve found it funny that they’d switched places. Would’ve probably shot Harrington’s own line right back at him. _Yeah, it's me. Don't cream your pants._ Except it wasn’t funny. Harrington stepped into the darkness where Billy could see him. He looked like someone had tried to kill him. Billy could barely see his eyes past all the bruising. “Where the hell is Max?”

               “She’s in the car.” Harrington slammed the car door shut. “And she’s gonna stay there until the two of us talk this out.”

               “Is that what we’re gonna do?” Fury threatened to rise in him again. “Talk it out?”

               “I’ll make you a deal, Hargrove. You’re going to drive Max home. You’re not going to threaten her or any of these kids ever again. You’re going to stay the hell away from them. And you’re never going to bring up tonight. In exchange, when the cops ask, I’ll forget you exist. How’s that sound to you?”

               It sounded like a trick. “That’s beautiful, Harrington. And what am I gonna tell my old man when he asks me about going missing all night?”

               Even with all the bruising, he could tell that Harrington was giving him that look. The look that said he couldn’t believe he had to put up with Billy’s very existence. One hand on his hip, the other one still holding that bat.

               “Jesus, haven’t you ever snuck out, dumbass? You tell him you got a flat driving out here to the middle of nowhere to pick her up. And when he asks why you didn’t call, you tell him the electric surges fried the phone. Wouldn’t be the first time. Then you tell him you watched over her all night and waited until it was light out to drive back, because you weren’t about to risk her life going down that driveway in the dark and on a spare.”

               He wanted to argue, but honestly, it was a decent cover story. Or at least it sounded good to his tranquilized brain. Besides it wouldn’t matter all that much. Once his father got pissed off enough, he had at best a sporadic interest in details. “Fine.”

               “Fine.” Harrington nodded. He slapped the hood of the car and Billy gritted his teeth against the urge to punch him again. The little pack of nerds spilled out of the car and scurried to Harrington’s side, as if to protect him. Max glared at him.

               “You,” Harrington pointed at him with the bat. “Get the spare on. The rest of you shitheads, go inside and get cleaned up.”

               “Steve, are you sure you-”

               “Go!” They scurried into the house without further argument.

               Normally he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to change a tire with Harrington around to watch. He was good with cars. Good at looking good while fixing them up. But his hands were still clumsy from whatever shit was coursing through his veins and he could feel the nausea at the back of his throat. He didn’t waste time puzzling out if that was a side effect of the drug or the thought of going back home.

               By the time he finished, he was drenched in sweat and covered in muck. Harrington had taken his former seat on the porch. 

               “Fuck.” He wiped his forehead. It was cold as hell out, there wasn’t any reason for him to be sweating so much. “Get a guy a cold one from the fridge, would you?”

               “Can’t.” Harrington got to his feet. “I’m using it to keep a body on ice.”

               Billy snorted despite himself. “Fuck you. I’ll be in the car.”

               He collapsed into the driver’s seat and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t want to look around inside and see what he’d have to clean up later. It was possible that he dosed off for a moment because when the slam of the passenger side door jerked him awake Harrington was tapping on his window. He rolled it down. “What?”

               “Are you good to drive?”

               “Yeah.”

               Harrington stared at him for a moment them looked past him at Max. “Radio when you get home.”

               “I will.” She sounded tired.

               Billy rolled up the window and swung the car around. He reached over to turn on the music, out of reflex more than a genuine desire to add to the pounding in his head. Max slapped his hand away from the console. “Leave it.”

               He dropped his hand without an argument. All this time he’d been wondering if she’d been paying any attention at all. _Say you understand. Say it. Say it!_ He almost laughed aloud. When he’d first met her, he’d been so sure she wasn’t cut out for life as a Hargrove. He’d been so wrong.

               “It’ll be fine.”

               They were almost back home. Billy didn’t bother looking over at her.

               “I’ll talk to him. Just keep your mouth shut and it’ll be fine.”

               There was no need for her to specify who they were talking about. He looked over at her. It was times like these that he remembered she was just a kid. “That’s a bad idea.”

               “It’s a good idea.” Max gave him her usual defiant glare. “I’m a better liar than you.”

               He gripped the wheel tighter and set his eyes back on the road.

               The lights were on in the kitchen when he pulled into the driveway. They’d probably both stayed up the whole night. He wondered idly if they’d called the cops yet to report Max missing. She dashed up to the house ahead of him and burst through the door. Billy took his time following her, the porch creaked under his weight. He froze in the doorway.

               Max had thrown her arms around Susan. She was crying. Tears rolled down her cheeks as if she were an orphan in a shitty theatrical production. “I’m _so_ sorry, Mom. The surge fried the phone and Billy got a flat and I’m so sorry.”

               His father got up from the couch and stared at him. Billy kept his face blank and stayed still in the open doorway even though he was letting in the cold. Susan combed her fingers through Max’s wild hair, her face a clear mixture of relief and apprehension. “It’s okay. We’re just so glad you’re home safe. Aren’t we, Neil?”

               Without a word his father stepped toward him, but before he could reach him Max flung herself around him with a fresh batch of tears.

               “I’m so, so sorry. I promise I’ll never sneak out again.”

               With great difficulty Billy kept himself from gaping at her open mouthed. Max wasn’t a hugger. In fact, he was pretty sure the only other time he’d seen her give his father a hug had been at the wedding.

               He wasn’t the only one in shock. It took his father a couple seconds longer than it should’ve to hug her back. “We’re glad you’re home, Maxine. Your mother was worried sick.”

               Susan wrung her hands together. “Thank you for getting her home safe, Billy.”

               “No problem.”

               His father’s eyes flicked to the cut on his lip. “We almost called the police.”

               “There was a power surge here too,” Susan cut in with her ever trembling voice. “We couldn’t.”

               _King, fucking Steve._

               Max ended the hug to wipe her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

               “Tell me, how’d you-”

               He never found out what it was his father intended to ask because Max dashed toward him. Billy raised his hands up in surrender. Instead of punching him in the gut or shoving him, she pulled him into a death grip. He almost fell backwards out of the house, had to grab the doorframe to steady himself. They’d _never_ hugged.

               “Thanks for coming to get me, Billy. Sorry I ran off.”

               “No problem.” He lowered his hands and patted her on the back with one of them, let the other hand hang awkwardly at his side. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had hugged him, couldn’t quite recall how it was done. If there was one thing he had in common with Max, it was that he wasn’t much of a hugger.

               “Well,” Susan said with forced cheerfulness. “Sounds like you both had quite the night.”

                The whole scene clearly proved to be too much for his father to process after a night of no sleep, because he nodded. “I could do with a cup of coffee.”

                Max let go of him. “Can I have some orange juice?”

               “Of course,” Susan said. “Get washed up. I’ll make you breakfast.”

               He forced his limbs to obey him and closed the door as carefully as he could. By the time he turned around his father and Susan had disappeared into the kitchen.

               Max stood in the center of the living room, arms crossed, all traces of tears gone. She raised her eyebrows at him- _I told you so, asshole_. She spun on her heel and made for the bathroom. Billy slunk down the hallway to his room before Susan could think to ask him to join them for breakfast, because all in all, most days he’d gladly take another shot of tranquilizer to the neck over her cooking.


	2. Chapter 2

     By the time his parents got back from their anniversary trip his face looked worse. The swelling and purple bruising had faded into a yellowy green mess that covered most of his face. He looked, as Nancy had been kind enough to point out, like shit. Being sleep deprived didn’t help. Normally, he slept on his stomach, face half pressed into the pillows. Since his face hurt too much to do that, he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling until it went fuzzy. It reminded him of the way surfaces warped before a demogorgon emerged from them. He fought off those memories with the one of Hopper telling them that it was done. That El had closed the gate for good. The whole process took forever and falling asleep was no guarantee that he’d stay that way. Half the time, he woke up exhausted from nightmares about running through tunnels. Sometimes he tripped over a body, usually Dustin’s, sometimes Mike’s or for whatever reason, Jonathan’s.

     “Steve?”

     It confirmed that he looked bad because the last time his dad had called him Steve instead of Steven, he’d been a little younger than Dustin and had knocked himself out cold by slipping and smacking his head into the pool ladder. He didn’t know how to respond to such an outpouring of affection, so he stayed in the living room with his hands jammed into the front pockets of his jeans and nodded at him.

     “Oh my god!” His mother abandoned her suitcase in the entryway and walked over the cream carpet with her shoes still on. She took his chin in her hand and turned his head gently from side to side to examine it in the light spilling in through the windows. She brushed his hair aside and scrutinized the cut on his temple where Billy had hit him with a plate. “My god. Who did this to you?”

     “Was it that Byers boy, again?”

     With a scowl he extricated himself from her grasp. He couldn’t believe his father remembered Jonathan’s name. “No. I told you that was just a stupid- It wasn’t him. It was some kids from out of town.”

     “From out of town?” His dad looked incredulous. And honestly, now that he thought about it, that was a bad lie because no one from out of town ever came to Hawkins unless they planned to move there or dropped out of an alternate dimension.

     “Yeah. Chief Hopper talked to me about it already.” There was no need to point out that he’d declined to tell him anything about how he’d gotten in this state. He’d only told him the cover story, just in case his parents saw him in town and mentioned it. Hopper hadn’t fought him on it that hard, he had more important things on his mind.

     “Why didn’t you call us?” His mother looked on the verge of tears. “We would’ve come home.”

     “I didn’t want you to worry. And anyway, I-” He took a pause to make the whole thing more believable, like he was hesitating to tell them the truth. “I was drunk. There was this bonfire in the woods. I don’t remember a whole lot.”

     “Drinking?” His father sighed heavily. “Steven, how many times have we had this conversation. You can’t keep behaving as if-”

     “Oh, for heaven’s sake Alan. Must we do this right now? He could’ve been killed.”

     “Yes, we have to do this now! Nothing gets through to him! He’ll be graduating in a couple months and can’t be trusted to behave himself for a couple days.” His father turned on him. “I swear, people will say someone knocked something loose in your head. After everything that happened with the Holland’s girl, haven’t you learned anything?”

      Bringing up Barb was a low blow, even for his father. Especially, since he was doing them a huge favor. If there was anyone out there who wouldn’t appreciate finding out the truth about Hawkins it was his parents. His dad might drop dead from a heart attack if he were forced to reconcile his dull daily existence with the Upside Down.

     Seeing as explaining that wasn’t an option, he hung his head and tried to look appropriately remorseful. It wasn’t difficult. He still felt the guilt low in his gut whenever someone brought up that night. Even if there hadn’t been any way for him to know what would happen to her. It all came back to that stupid party. If it hadn’t been for the party, Barb would be alive. If it hadn’t been for the party, he might still be with Nancy. That was his life now, an endless string of could have beens, if only he’d known that a couple insignificant choices would change everything.

     “Well? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

     His mom pursed her lips and walked out of the room, heels clicking on the tile in the entryway. He could hear her dragging her suitcase up the staircase.  _Thump. Thump. Thump._

     “It was stupid, okay? I know. I’m sorry.” He’d never been much good at hiding his emotions and his dad knew him too well. He sensed the shadow of resentment creeping into his words.

     “Don’t take that tone with me! My father would’ve knocked me halfway to Sunday if I’d carried on the way you do.”

     He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help himself. If he had to listen to another lecture about how his dad deserved a lifetime of praise because he wasn’t as much of a prick as his own father had been, he’d drown himself in the pool.

     “Go!” His father pointed to the hallway. “Go to your room until we figure out what to do with you.”

     He turned on his heel and stomped upstairs, slammed his door for good measure. It was childish and immature. That felt good. He wanted to go back to the days when his dad chewing him out ruined his mood for days because there wasn’t anything else of significance going on. He flopped down on his bed, feet planted on the carpet.

     They’d spent a lot of time debating what they should do about Billy. Nancy had wanted to tell Hopper, had wanted him to try to press charges. They’d stood around in the Byers’ kitchen arguing in whispers so that they wouldn’t wake up all the kids asleep in the living room.

     “You _have_ to tell Hopper,” she’d insisted. “He’s a psycho. Who knows what else he might do or what he saw?”

     “He’s not going to do anything. Max _tranquilized_ him. He might be a psycho and an asshole, but he’s not a complete dumbass. And he didn’t see anything. I told you already that I made that crack about the body in the fridge. If he’d opened it before we got back and found that thing in there, he would’ve reacted.”

     Nancy had pursed her lips and crossed her arms, the way she did whenever she dug in on something. “If he’s not a dumbass, then what happens when he figures out that we’re out of tranquilizer?”

     He didn’t have a good response for that, so he’d looked over at Jonathan who’d been hanging back in silence the whole time and tried to communicate with him telepathically.

_Back me up. If we tell Hopper, then he’s going to tell the people from the lab, and then we’re stuck with that asshole forever. We’ll get called in for tests together. He’ll be a part of this. We’ll have to worry about him getting us all killed by opening his mouth about this to impress a date. He’ll be one of us. Come on man, back me up. You **owe** me one. Back me up._

     And hell, maybe he’d gained some new powers from his trip to the Upside Down or maybe, more disturbingly, he now had enough in common with Jonathan Byers that the guy could read his mind from one look.

     “Nancy, just let it go.” He’d said it soft, put a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed.

     And Nancy had listened. It broke his heart all over again. Because he knew that if he’d been the one to ask, they would’ve argued about it for hours. Then she’d have gone and told Hopper anyway.

     “Steve?” His mom tapped her knuckles on the door before ducking her head in. “Can I come in?”

     He sat up. “Yeah.”

     She walked over to the bed, smoothed the sheets and sat down next to him. “Please tell me you’ve been to the doctor.”

     “I went. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear coach benched me until the doc clears me.” He jerked his head towards the door. His dad had always seen him being on the basketball team as a necessary evil. A meager substitute for a lack of academic prowess. He hoped that a couple years from now, Steve would turn some of his high school basketball buddies into clients. He never bothered to come to games.

     “You know he worries about you.”

     “Has a funny way of showing it.”

     She sighed. “You know about Uncle James, don’t you?”

     He rolled his eyes again. His mother brought it up every time he got into it with his dad. The two of them had argued one night and then Uncle James had crashed his car and died. He’d been too young to remember ever meeting him although he still had a model airplane in his room that he’d been told was a birthday present from him. Before the thing with Barb, that had been his parents' favorite way to guilt him into behaving.

     “So, what? He gets a pass for everything because he was an asshole to his brother and then he died?”

     It wasn’t like him to curse in front of her and he knew he was really pushing his luck, but it wasn’t _fair_. Nothing was ever fair anymore, and he was sick of it. He wanted her to storm out. To restore at least a bit of normalcy to his life, but she didn’t. Instead she brushed his hair back, out of his eyes.

     “He was drunk, Steve. That’s why he crashed the car.”

     “He- What?”

     “Your father doesn’t like to talk about it, but I think you’re old enough to know.”

     He didn’t feel old enough. Didn’t feel ready to see how tired his mother looked, as if all the years of her marriage had caught up to her in an instant. Didn’t want to consider that his dad might be caught up in trying deal with his own shit. A lump came into his throat.

     “You’d better call Nancy, by the way. To cancel date night. You’re grounded.”

     That was what did him in. The fact that even with all the business trips and company dinners, he’d spent so much time with Nancy that his mom had noticed, had come to expect him going out to see her.

     “We broke up.” He managed to mumble it before dropping his face in his hands to hide the tears he couldn’t hold back. It put pressure on the bruising around his eyes and the tears stung where he still had cuts. It hurt like hell.

     “Oh, sweetheart.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

     He let her rub his back and murmur over and over that everything would be okay. And he let himself believe that she was right. He let himself feel safe and protected in her arms, like he’d felt when he’d been a kid, even though he was now more than a head taller than her. For a couple moments he let himself forget that Nancy was right. He let himself forget that it was all bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments! Yep, I wasn't kidding with the slow burn tag. They've both got some things to deal with first. But hey, what's a slow burn without a bit of anticipation.


	3. Chapter 3

     The thing about being the new king of Hawkins High was that after the first couple of weeks it got boring as hell. Back in Cali, he’d had to work to keep his title. Some guy would get brave and start jockeying with him for the spot. By the time he got done putting him in his place, a new guy who thought he was hot shit would move to town. Here, without any fresh blood to mix things up, no one even bothered to challenge him. People stayed out of his way in the halls. They didn’t object when he stole shit off their lunch trays. He got invited to every party. It ruined all the fun.

     The parties and keg stands could only do so much to keep him entertained. All the parties in Hawkins blurred together. There were only so many kids with parents who went out of town and only so many places in the forest good for a bonfire. The houses all looked similar and every spot in the woods sure as hell looked exactly the same. Even worse, the faces were all the same. Sometimes somebody’s cousin would come from out of town and then everyone would lose their shit and talk about it for days beforehand, as if a celebrity was coming to town.

     Then there was basketball. He’d thought the team played like shit before. He’d been so wrong. With Harrington benched until further notice, they’d lost every single game left in the season. It was almost impressive how much they sucked. Even he couldn’t turn the tide when Tommy was the only other guy left who knew his ass from his elbow on the court. And Tommy wasn’t nearly as much fun to piss off at practice.

     “Billy! You’d better be ready.”

     He put out his cigarette and opened his bedroom door. “I’m ready.”

_I’ve been ready for two fucking hours._

     “You’re going to wait for her in the parking lot, just in case. Susan wants her home by ten. Do I make myself clear?”

     “Yeah. I _know_. You told me all of this yesterday.” He knew his father wasn’t going to bother with lecturing him about his attitude for more than a couple seconds tonight. He had an overnight shift coming up and he was running late.

     “Don’t start with me, boy.” He stuck a finger in his face. “Ten o’clock.”

     Billy waited until he heard his pickup pulling out of the driveway to go in search of Max. She was still in her room with Susan. He paused in the hallway.

     “Ow. Ow. That hurts.” Max hissed like an angry cat.

     Susan, undeterred, continued wrangling her hair. “It’s gonna be worth it. Promise.”

     _Jesus Christ._ They hadn’t even bothered to scrape together the change to buy her something nicer than the same pants and sweater she’d worn a hundred times. This whole time Susan had been trying to figure out what to do with some dumb hair clip that she only took out for special occasions. As if that was going to make a difference.

     Max caught sight of him in the mirror and turned to look at him. He gnawed on a nail.

     He wanted to say something to her. Something like - this sucks. Or – yeah, school dances are always this dumb even when they have a fancy name, _especially_ when they have a fancy name. But she jutted her jaw out at him as if daring him to so much as open his mouth, so he didn’t. Instead he grabbed his jacket and went to wait for her in the car.

     Since the night at the Byer’s house he’d played nice. He’d chauffeured her around without complaint whenever she had some place to be and stayed out of her way the rest of the time. The more he thought about it, the more that night scared the shit out of him. Which was saying something because he didn’t scare easy. And it wasn’t so much about the bat or the syringe, although sometimes he thought about those too. There’d been something going on at that house. Something messed up. He might have even figured it out if he hadn’t completely lost his fucking mind, attacked a kid and then almost killed Harrington. He was pretty sure if Max hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve done it. He was pretty sure she knew it too.

     Max got into the car. “You’re not really going to wait for me the whole time, are you?”

      “I look like I got somewhere else to be?”

     She didn’t respond, just looked out the window.

     Billy turned on the radio. _Fucking holiday tunes._ He could make the drive to the school with his eyes closed at this point, knew every turn and stop. They were late. The parking lot was full of cars by the time they got there. Most of the kids were probably already inside, busy standing around and being awkward.

     He drove up close to the entrance. It was cold as hell outside. He put the car into park.

     “Better get a move on.” He dug around in his pockets, searching for his lighter. “Don’t wanna miss all the square-dancing fun.”

     Max rolled her eyes at him and looked out the window again, ran her fingers through her hair. She’d been checking her reflection on the ride over, he realized. “Do you think… I mean, does it look weird?”

     “What?” It came out sharper than he intended.

     She scowled.

     “It’s a fucking hairclip, Max. No one’s even gonna notice it.”

     He was sure it was the wrong thing to say, because he wasn’t cut out for this kind of crap. Probably he’d cut class the day they were teaching how to give kids a pep talk before their first dance. It worked though, because she gave him a satisfied nod, jumped out of the car, and disappeared into the school gym before he could remind her to be back by nine forty-five.

***

     It was ten after ten. Billy had a party to get to. Not that he was in any rush to see Tommy or Carol or any of the other people he saw every day. And he really did see them almost every day, because it was impossible to go anywhere in Hawkins and not see people he knew. He watched the kids pouring out of the school doors. It wasn’t hard to spot Max in the crowd. Whatever Susan had done to tame her hair, it hadn’t worked for long.

     Sinclair was with her.

     Billy watched his determined expression as he walked Max to the car. He had to give it to him. The kid had guts. It only ever took him one trip against a shelving unit to move on to someone else. _Plenty of bitches in the sea._ Either that or he’d never found anyone worth the trouble. _Whatever_. He looked away, so they could awkwardly wave bye to each other in privacy.

     Max got in the car grinning. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. It was weird. She was a surly kid. It had been one of the few things he’d liked about her when he’d first met her. She’d been just as pissed off at the whole world as him. After they’d found out about the move she hadn’t spoken to Susan for a whole week. He’d punched his hand through a window. The window of his father’s pickup to be precise. It had been worth it. They’d made a good team. Not that it stopped them from being at each other’s throats all the time, but still.

     “Oh _shit._ ” Max looked up at him from her watch. “I’m late.”

     “Yep.” They were stuck in a line of parents and older siblings all trying to get out of the parking lot at the same time.

     “Aren’t you gonna yell?”

     “Nope.”

     “Why not?”

     “Got a hot date. Need to save my voice.”

     “Gross.”

     They’d finally made in out of the parking lot and turned off onto the empty road that led back to the house. If he wanted to, he could gun it from here, but it was dark as hell and the car was banged up enough from the time Harrington had apparently taken it for a joy ride. With his luck a deer would jump out to finish the job.

     “Do you think Neil called to check if we’re back?”

     “Probably.”

     It really didn’t matter. If it wasn’t being late tonight, it would be some other thing tomorrow morning or the afternoon of the day after that. It had taken him a while to figure that out, but once he had there’d been no going back. Most of the time he gathered the knowledge up into a restless rage and tried it out on anything and anyone within reach. There was a thrill to testing how far he could push before things broke. There was nothing else like it. Drugs didn’t even come close. Other times he took things easy, stopped giving a shit about any of it, and partied. Considering recent events, he was sticking to the second approach.

     “My mom’s probably worried.”

    “Just tell her I ditched to pick up a pack of smokes and was late coming back to pick you up.” Susan already thought he was an irredeemable delinquent, so it really wasn’t much of a sacrifice to take the fall for tonight.

     “Billy-”

     He hit the brakes hard enough that she lurched forward in her seat. “Get out, shitbird. I’ve got places to be.”

     Susan came out on the porch in a horrible blue housecoat that made her look like one of those creepy porcelain dolls people collected and let gather dust on a shelf. She looked anxious, which was to say she looked normal. He waited only until Max had closed the door to circle back out of the driveway.

     He’d rather drive off a cliff than admit it, but he boiled with envy. Only a couple weeks after they’d moved here, Max had somehow found herself a whole pack of friends. Friends who liked her enough that they were willing to overlook the fact that if they wanted to see her, they had to see him too. Meanwhile, he had to make do with Steve Harrington’s crappy hand me downs. He had no illusions about Tommy and Carol. They liked the warmth of being right next to his spotlight. That didn’t make them friends.  

     By the time he got to the summer cabin, someone was already puking in the bushes. Billy walked past him and dove in. It was his kind of party. A mixture of sweat, spilled beer, and mud dragged in from the unpaved driveway coated the floor. The music thrummed loud enough that you couldn’t carry a conversation without yelling. He pushed into the crowd packed into far too small a space.

     “Hey, man!” Tommy clapped him on the back and screamed into his ear. “Where ya been?”

     Billy took the red solo cup out of his hand and downed it. He grimaced. It was cheap, lukewarm beer. “Fuck.”

     Tommy cackled. “The good shit’s in the kitchen!”

     Calling anything that could possibly be in the kitchen the ‘good shit’ was stretching the meaning of good to almost its breaking point, but he went anyway. He didn’t need good. He needed strong. The kitchen door swung closed behind him. It muffled the music a bit.

     “Have you seen Paul?”

      Carol giggled. “Have _you_ seen Paul? He looks like Travolta. Why didn’t you tell me?”

     “Eww!” The other girl, a sophomore who’s name he couldn’t remember, shoved her. “He’s my cousin, dumbass.”

     He dunked the cup he’d taken from Tommy into the punchbowl and took a sip. The two of them glanced over at him and Carol got this look in her eye. He knew that look. It was the look she got whenever she impressed even herself with just how much of a bitch she could be when she set her mind to it.

     “Yeah, I guess you’ve got someone else on your mind.” Carol smirked.

     The girl blushed. “Carol, _shut up_.”

     “Why? He’s right there.” Carol looked at him over her drink and beckoned him with a finger. “Billy, I’ve got your biggest fan right here. She can’t shut up about you. Oh Carol, is _Billy_ coming tonight? Oh Carol, I had a _dream_ about him.”

     The girl tugged on Carol’s arm as if that might get her to lower the pitch and volume of her voice. “I swear to god, Carol. I’ll never invite you anywhere again. Just, shut up.”

     He knew the game Carol was asking him to play. She wanted him to go in for the kill. Then when he got bored, she’d pick over the carcass like a vulture. The girl wasn’t his type. She wasn’t the kind of girl that would have guys grinning at him in the locker-room on Monday and asking him about his night.

      “A fan, huh?”

     “I did _not_ have a dream about you.”

     He leaned over the counter and threw his focus on her, let everything else fade around him until the nervous look on her face twitched into something like a smile. “Well, that’s a damn shame.”

     “Don’t be shy,” Carol needled. “Tell him how you-”

     “Tommy’s looking for you. Why don’t you go find him?” He didn’t let his eyes stray to Carol. Then just to piss her off, he dropped his voice low and put on his best sly smile. “Awful crowded in here. I’m feeling kind of shy myself tonight.”

     He flicked his eyes over to her to see the scowl she gave him before marching out of the kitchen. Billy knew she’d forget to be annoyed about the whole thing by the time she found Tommy and shoved her tongue down his throat.

     “Sorry. I think she’s had too much punch.”

     He couldn’t remember her name. Christy? Claire? Something like that for sure. She even wore a nametag on her shift at the diner. He took another sip from his cup. “I’m not. Wouldn’t be talking to you if it weren’t for her, would I?”

     She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow at him. “You’re laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

     He grinned. “Is it working?”

     “Maybe.”

     He downed the rest of his drink and tossed the cup aside. “I can work with that.”

     She let him take her hand and lead her out of the kitchen. They danced pressed up against each other, closer than necessary. He was a decent dancer. Not that anyone noticed or gave a shit at this kind of party. He missed getting drunk and sneaking into clubs that would ignore his fake ID as long as he didn’t try using it at the bar. Missed walking out with his head swimming from it all and going to the beach to dip his feet in the freezing ocean water until he sobered up. He’d barely worked up a sweat before she pulled him into a bedroom.

     They made out amidst the piles of coats people had thrown over the bed. He really wasn’t drunk enough for it, but he slid a hand under her shirt anyway.

     “Hey-” She pulled back. “I don’t- I just wanted to make out a little. Okay?”

     “Okay.”

     She gave him a skeptical look, as if she expected him to ignore her and try to keep going or call her a tease and storm out. It was fucking depressing. Some of the other guys would do it. What none of those idiots got was that chicks _talked._ You wanted them talking about how you’d sweet talked them into blowing you in the backseat or how you’d slipped a hand in their jeans behind the bleachers. Not about how you’d turned into a total psycho. Because in a town this small, if you were a complete asshole, pretty soon your reputation went from the guy for some commitment free messing around to the guy you couldn’t leave your friends alone with at a party. And once a bunch of drunk chicks set their minds to closing ranks around one of their own, you were fucked.

     He got up. “Your cousin. I haven’t met him. Can he drink?”

     “I guess. Why?”

     “Introduce me. I’ve already kicked everyone else’s ass at beer pong.”

     Paul looked like Travolta. If you drank enough punch, squinted, and forgot that Travolta wasn’t a redhead. Billy drank enough punch. Then roped Paul into a game of beer pong against Tommy and Scott in the dank basement. That gave him the opportunity to chase down the punch with a beer. He spilled another on Paul’s shirt and watched him peel it off. Got them both drunk enough that it wasn’t weird they were leaning all over each other, laughing, and trying to keep each other upright. Then he passed out on a couch to the sight of him dancing with some girl. Paul couldn’t dance for shit, but maybe it was just because of the alcohol. All in all, it wasn’t the worst party he’d been to. 


	4. Chapter 4

     A little after all the signs of getting punched over and over in the face faded, Steve figured out why he’d pissed off Nancy last Halloween.

     Without basketball he found himself a new routine. He went to class and pretended to pay attention. Sometimes he gave the kids a ride home from school or to the arcade or the movies or wherever when their parents couldn’t or didn’t feel like it. It had started snowing and it was too cold for them to ride their bikes around. He told his parents his grades were fine when they asked and watched tv instead of doing his homework. He bought himself a couple extra lamps for his room. _I need my room bright, so I can study_ , he’d explained to his mom when she’d asked about them.

     Everything was back to normal. Except _nothing_ was normal. Something had possessed Jonathan’s brother after he’d gotten lost in another dimension. He’d jumped into a tunnel made by a monster from another world. Maybe the tunnel was actually in another dimension? Or had the tunnel been the monster? He still hadn’t wrapped his head around all the details and he didn’t really want to.

     Pretending he cared about being a senior, pretending he cared about his grades, pretending he cared what Tommy or Carol said about him behind his back, pretending to give a shit about any of it made him want to crawl out of his skin. Which, coincidentally, he’d had a nightmare about. A demodog had caught him by the leg and he’d shed his skin like a lizard dropping off a tail to escape. He blamed that one on Dustin. Before he’d started giving him rides, he hadn’t known dumb facts about lizards.

     So, yeah. He understood why she’d flipped out.

     He explained it to her one night when they were sitting in her basement while the kids ran around upstairs bickering about snacks. It wasn’t that he was hoping it would change anything between them. He just figured he owed her that much and that she'd understand. She was his best friend. Which was weird, but not nearly as weird as all the things they’d lived through.

     “I wasn’t right.”

     “You were. I just wasn’t ready to see it.”

     She looked away for a moment with a pained faraway look on her face. “Okay. Maybe I was right. But you weren’t _wrong_. We can’t just- We can’t get stuck. The kids went to the Snow Ball. I’ve got a calc test coming up. And you’re going to graduate in the spring. That’s real too. It’s not any less real than the Upside Down.”

     “It doesn’t feel like it.”

     “Maybe you should try talking to Jonathan about it.”

     Somehow, he didn’t think that opening up to Jonathan would end up the same way for him as it had for her.

     “I know.” Her lip quirked up in a small smile before he could protest. “It’s just, after everything with Will, he gets it.”

     “Yeah. I guess.”

     “I don’t think we can ever close the curtains again, but we don’t have to keep looking out the window either, you know?”

     He nodded even though he had the feeling he was missing some crucial detail to fully follow her explanation. That wasn’t unusual for him though, so he didn’t bother asking about it.

     He had no intention of taking her up on the idea. The three of them sat together at lunch and he took turns with Jonathan giving the kids rides. Once the sting of it faded away a bit, he could see what Nancy saw in him. Or more accurately he learned to appreciate the same things about him that had made him smash his camera and punch him in the face only a year ago. He was a good guy. The kind of guy who’d never been interested in all the high school drama because he was too busy picking up extra shifts to keep the lights on at home. The kind of guy who didn’t need the comfort of a slot in the high school hierarchy, because he knew himself with a certainty that scared the less sure. And he had this wry, quiet sense of humor that had grown on him, even if he didn’t always follow his references the way Nancy did. Jonathan got Nancy in a way he knew he never would. He was happy for them. He really was. That didn’t mean they were in a place to have a heart to heart.   

     They were sitting together in the library during study period the next time he saw him. Nancy wasn’t there because she had a dentist appointment. Jonathan was reading _The Sirens of Titan_ for at least the third time and Steve was struggling to write an essay about _Macbeth._ He slid his thumb over the edge of the book so that the pages fluttered in his hands. As if that might send the words flying right into his head. The holidays were just around the corner and this was the main thing that stood between him and days of sleeping in.

     “Have you read this?”

     Jonathan glanced up and nodded.

     “I don’t understand a word of it.”

     “Have you tried, you know, _reading_ it?” Jonathan asked with an amused look that told him he was willing to indulge his complaining.

     “You mean I can’t just keep flipping through the pages? Have I been doing it wrong all these years? Because that would explain a lot.”

     “And they say you’re not a genius.”

     That was the other thing about Jonathan’s humor. Sometimes it cut closer to an uncomfortable truth than Steve liked. “So, how’s the other famous Will?”

     “He’s good… I think. He doesn’t like me asking. I think he just wants things to get back to normal.”

      “Yeah. I get that.”

     “Kids are still picking on him though. He says it’s nothing, but I can tell it bothers him.”

     That he chose to share that bit of information with him surprised Steve. Jonathan could be so tight lipped that sometimes Steve would forget he was sitting right next to him. He didn’t know much about Will. Even now that he spent more time around the kids, Jonathan was usually the one to give him rides. “Picking on him? Why?”

     Jonathan shrugged. “He’s a quiet kid. Prefers drawing to playing baseball, you know?”

     And he did know, because he was the kid who’d played baseball. Remembered watching Tommy tear Jonathan’s notebook apart in the schoolyard when they were in the fourth grade and laughing at him the next day because he’d taped it up and brought it back to school. His family probably couldn’t afford a new one, he realized with a long overdue flash of guilt and shame. “He’ll be okay. He’s a tough kid.”

     “Why do people always say-”

     “Mr. Byers.” The librarian rapped the table with her knuckles making both of them jump. “Your mother needs to speak with you, says it’s urgent. They’re holding the call for you in the main office.”

     Jonathan got up from the table so fast that his chair toppled over behind him. It hit the floor with a bang that echoed through the whole library.

     “Mr. Byers!”

     The library door slammed shut behind him. A round of snickering broke out across the room.  Steve got up and picked up the chair. Scott caught his eye from across the room. They’d spent a lot of time hanging out when he’d still been on speaking terms with Tommy.

     “Freak,” he mouthed, looking pleased with himself, like he expected Steve to laugh. It wasn’t that long ago that he would have.

     Instead, Steve flipped him off and went back to pretending to read. It was probably nothing. Ms. Byers got a little paranoid. Not that he could blame her. He bounced his leg under the table and glanced at the clock. They still had twenty minutes of study hall left. He could lie and say he needed to go to the bathroom. But there wouldn’t be a crowd in the halls to hide him hoovering around the main office. He’d just gotten up to go look for him when Jonathan came back. Steve dropped back in his chair.

     Jonathan slumped into his seat, clearly pissed off.

     “What’s going on? Do I need to get my bat?”

     “No. It’s nothing. My mom’s got to work a double." He said it with such an uncharacteristic mixture of teenage resentment and annoyance that Steve flinched. It would be a perfectly normal and proportionate response from anyone else their age, but this was Jonathan.

     “Did you guys have plans or something?”

     “No. I was going to pick up an extra shift today. But I can’t leave Will alone. Not after the last time.”

     “Last time?”

     Jonathan looked at him as if he thought asking him if he’d been dropped on his head as a child would be too sophisticated of an insult for him to handle.  

     “Oh, right.” Steve glanced down at the sheet of paper that was supposed to be his essay. He hadn’t even put down his name. Christmas was coming up. He had an envelope full of cash in his bedroom that his parents had given him as his holiday allowance. “I can watch him.”

     Jonathan shook his head. “It’s a school night. By the time either one of us could pick him up it’d be almost eleven. It’s fine.”

     “Just give me your keys. I’ll hang around yours until one of you gets home. I’ve got to work on this essay anyway. I think I know my way around your house by now.”

     “Are you sure you-” Jonathan hunched in on himself for a moment then nodded, more to himself then at Steve. “Okay. Thanks.”

_Are you sure you what? Know the way? Can handle it? Want to? Just finish the sentence._

     He didn’t ask. It was a new thing he’d been trying out. Not pushing every moment until it broke. Keeping his mouth shut from time to time and leaving well enough alone.

     “No problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A random weekday update and a switched up summary, because- why not? Also, I swear they finally cross paths in the next chapter!
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments, it's always lovely to hear your thoughts. :)


	5. Chapter 5

     He held up his end of the deal with Harrington until late December. Without basketball they didn’t have much reason to interact. When they passed each other in the hallways or around town they ignored each other. Tommy tried to push him into starting something up, but he’d just waved him off.

     _Been there. Done that. I’ve got better shit to do. I still haven’t banged Sadie._

_Who the fuck is Sadie?_

_The blond one._

_Her name’s Lori, dumbass._

_Whatever. I’m not picky._

It was cold as shit out and it was only December. Theoretically, he knew it was going to get much colder, but he couldn’t really imagine it. He was starting to think he was going to have to get himself an actual winter coat so that he wouldn’t freeze to death walking across the parking lot from his car to the school. It was really going to mess with his image. He was smoking a cigarette and freezing his ass off waiting for Max to get out of whatever dumb club kept her there late a couple days a week. Literally, freezing his ass off because he was standing outside leaning back against his Camaro.

     “Hey! Zombie boy!”

     Billy took another drag of his cigarette and rolled his eyes. How was it possible that every day in this town got stupider than the day before it? He didn’t even turn around to watch. He could hear the scuffling of sneakers on the concrete and slush.

     “Give it back.”

     Something thudded heavily against the ground. Probably a backpack or a kid wearing one.

     “I thought fairies could fly.”  

     It was rude. They were interrupting his smoke break. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, put it out with the heel of his boot and pushed off the Camaro so he could get a look at the scene. There were a couple of them standing in a semi-circle around a kid on the ground. He recognized him from the group of nerds Max spent all her time with. He was the one who always looked pale and sick. The nickname fit.

     The leader of the pack held a sketchpad over his head.

     Billy walked up behind him and snatched it out of his hand with enough force to give him a sense of what it’d be like if he’d aimed at his head instead. The kid spun around to look at him, mouth open at the ready to hurl an insult. Billy grinned at the bewildered expression on his face. That was the only benefit of living in a tiny town. By this point, _everyone_ knew who he was. It saved a lot of time.

     “Get lost, dipshits.”

     It was too easy.

     “Come on,” the leader muttered. “Leave him to Hargrove. We’ve got better things to do.”

     Billy bit back a smartass response, because recent events notwithstanding, picking fights with a bunch of kids half his size wasn’t the sort of thing he got off on. Instead he flipped through the sketchpad. The thing was filled with drawings of wizards, a weird tentacled smoke monster, and beasts with mouths that unfurled like flowers in the sun. And sketches of a boy. He recognized him too.

     He slammed the thing shut.

     The kid was still on the ground, looking up at him as if he wasn’t going to bother with standing up until he figured out if Billy was planning on shoving him back down.

     “Well?” He stuck his hand out. “You gonna rise again, Zombie Boy?”

     The kid let himself be pulled up. He dusted the slush off his pants then dried his hands off on his jacket. “You’re Billy.”

     “The one and only.”

     The kid gave him a hesitant smile that somehow lit up his whole face. “I’m Will.”

     Billy snorted. “Well, I’ll be damned.”  

     “Can I have that back?”

     Someone slammed into him hard enough that his boots slid over the icy ground. He wind-milled his arm trying to stay upright. It would’ve been fine if he didn’t have the sketchpad in the other hand. For some reason, in the split second that he had to drop the thing to regain his balance or at least break his fall, his brain decided to snap his arm into his chest to protect it from the wet ground. He fell with a grunt, elbow first, ass second.

     “What the fuck did I tell you, Hargrove?”

     _Harrington._ Of course, it was Harrington. He was always around picking up or dropping off one of the kids as if they were his younger siblings. Except none of them were and he was pretty sure he wasn’t making pocket money as a babysitter. Billy scowled up at him. He’d planted himself in front of the kid, sneakers ground into the slurry so that the soles of his shoes touched the bare concrete. So at least he’d learned something.

     “Steve,” Will squeaked. “It wasn’t him. He was helping.”

     “He was-” Steve blinked and glanced over at Will who’d latched onto his elbow. “Are you sure?”

     “I’m sure.”

     “Christ. Watch the cargo, Harington.” Billy held the sketchpad out to Will. Sitting on the ground he was at just about the right height to pass it to him anyway. “This shit might be someone's sick tat one day.”

     Will stepped out from behind Steve to take it from him. “Thanks.”

     “My pleasure.” Billy got to his feet with a wince. The movies always made slipping on ice look kind of funny. It wasn’t. His jeans were soaked through and his elbow felt warm and numb in a way that made him suspect it was bleeding. Also, icy gravel and leather didn’t mix. He’d scraped the hell out of his jacket.

     “Sorry, I thought…”

     “Yeah.” Billy wiped his hands on the dry parts of his jeans. “I know what you thought.”

     Harrington chewed on his bottom lip as if he wanted to say something more to him, but instead he fished his car keys out of his pocket, dangled them in the air, and turned to look at Will. “Your mom and Jonathan both have work, so I’m your ride.”

     “Oh.” Will nodded. “Okay.”

     “You got everything you need?”

     “Yeah.”

     “In that case.” Harrington pulled his sunglasses out of his hair and slid them on with a theatrical flourish that should have looked dumb, but somehow almost looked cool. He threw Will a movie star grin. “Let’s roll.”

     The kid hesitated for a moment before giving Billy a little wave and hurrying across the parking lot, backpack bouncing. Billy watched them drive off. The whole thing was strange. He couldn’t understand it and that was annoying. Despite all the teachers over the years who’d implored him to at least pretend he was paying attention, there actually wasn’t much that escaped his notice. He was good at reading people. Good at figuring them out from all the subtle signs they thought they hid so well. But he couldn’t figure out Harrington. Every time he thought he had him pegged, he’d go and do something that made him reconsider.

     Everyone knew Byers and Wheeler were a thing. That she’d dumped Harrington for him. Yet, here was Harrington picking up the guy’s little brother from school. He sat with the two of them in the cafeteria, went to the pizza place by the arcade with them and the kids. If they weren’t in Indiana, he would’ve guessed the three of them were in some kind of freaky love triangle.

     Max cut off his thoughts with a brusque. “What happened to you?”

     “None of your business.” Her tone told him that she fully expected that whatever it was had been his fault. Statistically speaking, it wasn’t a bad guess.

     They got into the car and he cranked the heat all the way up which was pointless because even on full blast the heater wouldn’t manage to make a dent in the chill for at least thirty minutes.

     “If you get suspended for fighting and ruin Christmas, I’m going to kill you.”

     “Scared Santa’s going to mix up his naughty and nice list?”

     “Screw you.”

     “Right back at you.” Instead of turning off towards the house he rolled through a stop sign and made his way towards the center of town.

     “You missed the turn.”

     “We’re going into town.” He glanced over at her. “Put on your fucking seatbelt.”

     “No, we’re not. I’ve got homework to do. I’m _not_ going to sit around in the car, so you can look at a bunch of tapes you can’t afford anyway or swap spit with someone behind a dumpster.”

     That was an uncalled for attack on his character. He’d never made out with anyone behind a dumpster. Sure, one time he’d let a girl give him a little over the jeans action in an alley, but they’d been _next_ to a dumpster. He couldn’t explain that important distinction to her though so instead he turned up the music and ignored her whining. It wasn't like she had another syringe of tranquilizer on hand. He parked outside Sam’s Sports Emporium. It was by far the most outrageous abuse of the word ‘emporium’ that he’d ever encountered. Also, the place might as well have been called Sam’s Hardware. Half the stuff it sold was an assortment of the kind of junk you needed to keep a house functioning, but that didn’t fit neatly in any of the aisles of another store.

     He didn’t wait to see if Max was following. A little bell rang when he opened the door, because this was Hawkins and every single store except the Big Buy grocery store with the automatic doors came with one of those dumb bells. As if anyone could possibly be in such a rush to buy something that they couldn’t wait a minute or two to be noticed.

     “Can I help you?”

     The guy behind the counter looked ancient. Like he might be Sam himself.

     “We’ve got it covered.” Billy squeezed past a row of bikes to get to the back of the store.

     “Oh my god. Please tell me we’re not here so you can buy more weights.”

     “We’re not here so I can buy more weights.” He jerked his thumb at the small selection of skateboards. “Pick one.”

     She crossed her arms. “Very funny.”

     “I don’t have all day.” He had all day. He’d finished all his homework for the night sitting in the back of his history class. The teacher had given up on trying to get anyone to pay attention to his lecture only days before the holidays and had put on a documentary about World War I.

     She didn’t even look at them, just pointed to the most expensive one. It was violently pink. He pulled it off the shelf and started walking to the register.

     “Wait.” She grabbed his arm. “You’re serious?”

     He tore himself out of her grasp ignoring the sharp twinge of pain that raced from his elbow up to his shoulder. “I don’t need to waste gas driving around if I want to mess with you. I could’ve just let you walk home. Lot less work.”

     She seemed convinced by that argument because she took the skateboard away from him and set it back on the shelf then stepped back to consider her options. Billy left her to it, spent a couple of minutes starting at sink strainers and cabinet hinges, then wandered over to the sets of dumbbells out for display by the window. He did a couple halfhearted reps with one of them, looked outside, and saw Harrington.

_Again._

     There was no getting away from him and his stupid hair. He was walking out of the bakery with a box balanced in one hand. Their eyes met. Billy did another rep and winked at him.

     Harrington scowled.

     Billy grinned.

     He set down the dumbbell and watched him get back in the car and drive away for the second time. He wasn’t breaking any rules. He was staying away from Harrington. As far away as Hawkins allowed him. It suited him just fine. Worked to his advantage even. No one, least of all himself, would ever claim self-control as one of his strong suits. He would’ve slipped up. Would’ve pushed a joke an inch too far in the locker room or at a party. It would raise a couple eyebrows. Then Harrington would say something. Maybe he’d decide he wanted his throne back after all or maybe he’d do it just because. This town was too small and once upon a time Harrington had been the king. And if there was one thing people loved more than a coup, it was a comeback.

     “This one.”

     Billy didn’t know a thing about skateboards, but it looked better made than the one he’d tripped over. He’d made a real show of it later. As if he’d broken it on purpose. No reason to let a perfectly good accident go to waste. He went up to the register and paid for it with a couple of crisp bills he’d pulled out of the envelope hidden inside his closet. He’d taped it above the door, so you wouldn’t notice it unless you knew to look for it or, he supposed, decided to sit inside the closet and look up. Which was something Max might do if she ever came into his room, but his father and Susan definitely wouldn’t.  

     “How’d you get that money?” Max asked, buckling her seatbelt.

     “I robbed a bank.”

     She gave him a look.

     “It’s from my old job at the bookstore. I saved some cash before we moved, just in case.” He didn’t need any rumors starting around town that he’d robbed a bank. With his luck, a bank somewhere nearby had been robbed and he’d go down for it.

     “In case what?”

     _In case one day I get in my car and decide I won’t stop driving until I hit the Pacific._ He’d saved up to run away. A stupid idea, because even if he’d saved every cent he’d ever earned working at the place part time, it wouldn’t be enough. He’d make it back to California, but after that he’d be screwed. He wasn’t going to be the guy who spend the rest of his life working construction and talking about how he could’ve finished high school if he’d wanted to.

     “In case there was anyone around good looking enough to take out to the movies.” The anyone was a bit of a slip up, so he added, “She was going to get her own tub of popcorn and everything.” Which was an even stupider thing to say because everyone knew that the proper way to do it was to share the popcorn. That way you had an excuse to reach for it at the same time and brush hands.

     She didn’t call him on it though. Maybe because she was thirteen and hadn’t figured that out yet or maybe because she didn’t want to dig too much into the details of his date night decisions.

     “Not like I can skate in the snow anyway.”

     “I know this is a difficult concept, but there’s this thing called _seasons_. It’s going to be summer again, shitbird. Eventually.”

     She didn’t snap back at him like he expected, just looked out the window at endless dead trees and bushes. “I miss the weather.”

     _I thought you like it here now._

     He breathed out. The snow swirled around outside, wet and clingy. He flicked on the windshield wipers. “Yeah. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.


	6. Chapter 6

               Steve unlocked the door to the house and went in first. Just in case. He looked to the right. He looked the left. He checked the ceiling. He checked the wall to the right again. He’d walked into the Byer’s house four times. Twice each of the nights that he’d ended up here. It didn’t look anything like he remembered. Everything looked normal. Cozy even, without lights strung up everywhere or paper taped all over the walls. The worn furniture spoke to years of use. Someone hadn’t sanded the walls well before repainting them. Judging by the faded colors, it had been a long time since anyone had repainted. A jagged hole in the floorboards marked where Max had threatened Billy into submission. Everything looked lived in. Except for one of the visibly new windows.

               Will dropped his backpack by the door and went into the kitchen. Steve watched him gather up the dishes on the kitchen table and put them in the sink. He counted two plates, two mugs, a bowl, and a glass. They’d all had breakfast together in the morning. He wondered which of them ate cereal.

               “Sorry.” Will shrugged apologetically. “It’s kind of messy.”

               “It’s great.” It came out a little more choked with emotion than he intended.

               Will smiled hesitantly. “It’s okay.”

               “Guess we’d better get started on our homework, huh?” He went over to the fridge and opened it to put away the pie he’d bought on the way over. It sparkled on the inside. Ms. Byers had probably scrubbed it with a gallon of bleach after she’d discovered that they’d used it to store a demodog for science.

               After they’d wiped away the crumbs and sticky orange juice splashes, they spread their papers out on the table. Steve started on the first page of _Macbeth_.

               _When shall we three meet again_

_In thunder, lighting, or in rain?_

               So maybe the play wasn’t as irrelevant to his life as he’d thought it would be.

               Across from him, Will steadily worked through a set of math problems with a focus he envied. Even before everything with the Upside Down his thoughts had scattered every time he sat down to do his schoolwork. There’d always been more interesting things to do. He’d been trying to get it together after the first encounter with the Upside Down. Dating Nancy had helped. She’d made him want to get serious about schoolwork too. In her world you got measured by the grades you earned, not the funny thing you yelled out in the hallway or a record keg stand. He’d known he’d never really fit in with that part of her world, but he’d wanted to be able to visit sometimes. It had amazed him, the way she’d been able to drop into his without effort. Sure, Tommy and Carol would give them shit sometimes, but they always gave him shit. If all the alternate dimension stuff hadn’t happened, they would’ve pulled her into their circle. No amount of studying would have given him the skills to join her group.

               These days he sometimes studied with her and Jonathan. But mostly he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had more important things to do. He just couldn’t figure out what those things were. When they told you to live every day to the fullest, they never told you how to fill up the days.

               When Will started gathering up his books and putting them neatly in his backpack he tossed _Macbeth_ aside and went back over to the fridge. “So, what are we having for dinner?”

               “I usually make a sandwich.”

               “Want me to order a pizza?”

               “They won’t deliver.” Will went over to the sink and stood up on his toes to look out the window. “Not when it’s snowing. They got stuck on the drive over a couple years ago.”

               Steve couldn’t imagine living in a place where you couldn’t order a pizza because it was snowing, but he nodded like this was perfectly normal. “Good point. Sandwiches it is. What do you want on yours?”

               “Peanut butter and jelly.”

               It was a good choice. It was also the only choice. He pulled both jars out of the fridge along with the bag of bread and opened a drawer at random. He found the cutlery on his first try. He made two sandwiches for each of them. “Crust or no crust?”

               “I’m not a baby.” Will sounded offended.

               Steve sliced the sandwiches into triangles. “I’ll have you know, I only started eating crusts last week, thank you very much.”

               “Oh, sorry.”

               “I’m kidding.” He put a plate in front of Will. “I started eating them last year.”

               Will cracked a smile. “Can I ask you something?”

               His mouth was too full of peanut butter to respond so he waved his sandwich to show that he was listening.

               “Jonathan has this magazine…”

               Steve almost dove under the table. If a demogorgon showed up, he would willingly go with it to the Upside Down. He could make a sandwich. He could bludgeon monsters with a bat. If pressed he could explain the intricacies of capturing a girl's attention with great confidence and questionable personal outcomes as evidence. But he was _not_ prepared to talk about Jonathan’s porn stash. He grabbed a glass of water to unglue his mouth and redirect the conversation.

               “I don’t think-” he sputtered.

               “It’s got an interview with this surfer.”

               “Oh.” He hadn’t felt this relieved since the demodogs had run past him and Dustin in the tunnel instead of devouring them.

               “Billy kind of looks like him.”

               Steve waited until he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Is that a question?”

               “He’s from California. Do you think he surfed?”

               The image wasn’t entirely unappealing. The guy looked good without a shirt, but he wasn’t going to let himself think about that right now. He remembered being Will’s age. He’d _worshiped_ guys like Billy. Sure, they’d had a different look a couple years ago, but they’d been the same. They were the cool guys, the ‘a little bit dangerous’ guys who drove fast cars. The guys who cut class to smoke behind the bleachers and skipped the detentions they got for it. The same guys who punched you in the face when you got in their way.  

               “Listen, about Billy. I know you said he was helping today, but you need to be careful. You know what happened that night.”

               “Mike told me.”

               “Billy is- He’s just an older, meaner, and more dangerous version of the kids that pushed you in the parking lot.”

               “Jonathan punched you too.”

               “That was different.”

               “Why?”

_Because I deserved it._

               Will picked at the crust on his sandwich. “Troy’s dad is sick. Really sick. I overheard my mom talking about it.”

               “Troy?”

               “He’s the one who pushed me.”

               “Oh.” Steve nodded. “Well, that doesn’t make it okay.”

               “No, but-” Will paused and gestured with his hands as if he were literally gathering up his thoughts. “I’ll be okay. I have… _everyone_. They found me in the Upside Down. They found me when the shadow monster got me. I’ll be okay. But his dad might not be, and I don’t think he even has friends.”

               Will looked up at him and Steve took a sip of water to hide his discomfort. The kid had these big, soft eyes that made him feel as if he could see right through him into the deepest pits of his soul where he shoved all the thoughts and feelings he didn’t want to examine. Maybe it was a side effect of being in the Upside Down or maybe he’d always been like this. That would explain why the others hadn’t given up on looking for him.  A demogorgon’s teeth had nothing on a kid who could flay someone open and pull something like that out over a peanut butter sandwich.

               “I guess all of this calls for some pie, huh?”

***

               He was still thinking about that conversation long after Will had gone to bed. Sitting at the kitchen table, pushing around the pie crumbs on his plate, he tried to puzzle out what they’d even been talking about. They’d been talking about how Billy looked like some surfer. His mind circled back to that over and over. Not only because he could easily summon the image. Surely, Will had meant to ask him something else or to tell him something different. He was a smart kid. He couldn’t possibly think Steve would know anything about what Billy had or hadn’t done before moving to Hawkins or if he looked like some other guy in an unspecified magazine.

               A car pulled into the driveway, so he got up and went to open the door. Ms. Byers startled when she saw him. “Steve?”

               “Yeah. I-”

               She dropped the grocery bags in her hands. “Oh my god, Will. Is he-”

               “He’s fine.” Steve rushed to reassure her. He hadn’t even thought about what it would look like that he was here in the middle of the night. “He’s sleeping. Jonathan asked me to watch him so he could work a double.”

               “Oh.” She looked like she might cry, but then she laughed instead and touched a hand to her forehead. “Right, of course. I’m sorry. My god, look at this mess.”

               He went over to help her scoop the groceries up from the ground. A carton of milk had exploded all over them. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to scare you, Ms. Byers.”

               “Joyce, honey.” She stood up and lead the way back into the house. “I think we’re at the point where you can call me that.”

               “Right.”

               He helped her unpack and wipe the groceries and ignored the way her hands trembled a little as she stacked assorted canned vegetables alongside a couple of boxes of instant potatoes in her pantry.

               “Should I make some tea?” People were always offering to make tea as if it could fix everything. They probably should have tried to make some when all the stuff with the Upside Down happened. Maybe they could’ve tossed it on the demodogs to keep them away. Or calmed Billy down with a cup full of it.

               Joyce shook her head and reached into a hideous brown vase to pull out a pack of cigarettes. She gave him a sheepish look. “I’m trying to cut down.”

               He laughed. “I won’t tell a soul.”

               She motioned him out onto the porch. It was cold out. Cold enough that he could see his breath, but not yet nose hair freezing cold. He loved the first crisp days of winter, before it got cold enough that even the thickest coat couldn’t keep the chill from crawling into your bones. Tire tracks and the scuffle of their feet as they’d gathered up the groceries were the only disturbances in the sheet of white that covered everything.

               Joyce leaned against the porch column. “Thank you for watching him.”

               “It’s no problem.”

               “I’m glad you and Jonathan worked things out.”

               He wasn’t sure how much she knew about all of it. Maybe everything. She seemed the intuitive type. If he’d been the one to go missing in the Upside Down, his mother sure as hell would’ve stopped searching for him after they lowered his fake corpse into the ground. “Me too.”

               She fiddled with her lighter for a few moments before putting it to her cigarette. The flame cast a warm glow over her face. “Are your folks going to be home for Christmas?”

               “Not sure.”

               “You’re always welcome here. We have dinner around six.”

                He knew he wouldn’t come.  He’d worked things out with Jonathan, easier than one might expect after everything that had happened. It didn’t change that the things that had crossed their paths had almost without exception been horrible. Neither one of them needed that reminder for the holidays.

               “I’d better get home. School night and all.”

               “Be careful.”

               Steve knew she wasn’t talking about the roads. The flurries picked up again by the time he drove down the driveway that turned into an endless tunnel of trees in the nighttime. Snow swirled and glowed golden in his headlights. He rolled down his window and stuck his hand into the darkness to catch snowflakes in the palm of his hand. If he let himself forget, he remembered how beautiful Hawkins could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments and kudos.


	7. Chapter 7

               Billy hated Christmas. Everyone went through the motions of pretending to be the kind of perfect little family that took a photo together in front of the fireplace and then mailed it out. Thank god, they didn’t have money for a camera and his father was too proud to ask anyone at work to borrow one. Otherwise they’d all be standing in the living room, in front of the fireplace someone had painted a truly revolting shade of green and his father would be barking at them to smile. Then a couple weeks later he’d send Billy out to get the photos developed and complain that their smiles didn’t look suitably grateful. Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.

               The second issue was all the time off from school. It kept them trapped together in the house. Back in California he’d spent his days off driving around or wandering the pier. He wasn’t about to waste gas driving through empty cornfields and it was too cold to walk around. His father’s schedule kept changing. Sometimes he worked nights and all of them would tiptoe around the house while he slept during the day. Other times he’d be out of the house at the crack of dawn and didn’t come home until long after they’d all gone to bed. Billy suspected he wasn’t always at work, but he knew better than to ask questions. Whatever he was doing, it was clearly messing with his circadian rhythm because he’d gotten more irritable than usual. It was impressive in a way. His father hadn’t been this on edge since right before they’d moved to Hawkins.

               Worst of all, Susan had caught a horrific case of, what Billy supposed other people might call, the holiday spirit.

               The afternoon two days before Christmas he went into the kitchen for a glass of water after his workout. His father wasn’t home, so he didn’t bother changing first. Susan hummed along to the radio and washed dishes in pair of yellow gloves that went all the way up to her elbows. Sometimes it still struck him how weird it was to be living with a stranger. For the brief time they’d all lived together in California he hadn’t been able to shake the small jolt of surprise every time he walked into a room and found her there, like she was a guest someone had forgotten to ask to leave.

               Seeing as the sink wasn’t available, he pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and drank from it. The stove timer went off. Susan peeled off the gloves and turned around. She startled seeing him, then wrinkled her nose.

               “Billy, please use a glass. All of us have to drink from that.”

               “There’s nothing left anyway.” He launched the empty carton into the garbage can. It fell in with a satisfying thunk.

               She sighed and went over to the oven to pull out a tray of gingerbread men.

               When his father wasn’t around, Susan let him get away with almost anything. He never took it too far though. Not anymore. For the first couple of weeks that they’d lived together she’d tried so hard to get him to like her. He’d made it his personal mission to pay her back by making her life miserable. She never put up a fight, just stood there and waited for him to run out of steam. He supposed that was what drew his father to her in the first place. Susan didn’t have an ounce of fight in her. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t pay for it if he got carried away.

               _He cranks the music as loud as it will go. Loud enough that you can hear it through the whole house. He flops back on his bed and closes his eyes. Feels the thump of the bass reverberate through him. It’s not a good song. But Nate listens to it so he listens to it too. Just in case. So, he has something to say if they ever talk to each other._

_A knock on his door._

_He knows it’s Susan coming to ask him if he wouldn’t mind turning his music down. Well, he does mind. He used to have hours of freedom before his father came home. But Susan doesn’t work so she’s always home and he’s sick of sharing the time and space with her. He opens his eyes and stares at the door. Hopes he can get her to go away with the power of his mind._

_She opens the door and peeks into his room. When he doesn’t say anything, she comes in and perches on the corner of his bed. He sits up and glares at her._

_“You really like this song, don’t you?” She smiles. “Is it your favorite band?”_

_He gets up and turns the music all the way down. “What do you want?”_

_“I thought we could go take a walk at the pier.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I know how much you like going.”_

_He feels a twinge of panic. His father never notices or cares where he goes as long as he’s home in time for dinner. He doesn’t need anyone to start asking question about what he does when he’s not at home. “I’m busy.”_

_She looks around the room. “Doing what?”_

_“You can drop the act, okay?” He runs his hands through his hair._

_“Billy, I know that you must-”_

_“Fuck off!” He snarls it at her, steps in close until he looms over her, and she flinches. “My father might need you to do his laundry and make him shitty pot roast, but I don’t need you for anything. So, fuck off!”_

_Her lip trembles and before he can figure out what it means she’s crying. It startles him. He hasn’t seen an adult cry in years. Her face turns red and blotchy right away. She looks up at him like she expects he’s going to apologize, but instead he points to the door._

_“Get out of my room.”_

_She still looks blotchy when his father gets home later that night. He’s in his room pretending to be asleep and he can hear every word of their conversation because the walls in the house are paper thin._

_“Susan? What happened?”_

_“It’s nothing.”_

_“What happened?”_

_“It’s nothing. It’s just… I try so hard with him. But he just-” She breaks into a fresh round of sobs._

_“Is Max home?”_

_“Max? No, she’s sleeping over at Allie’s.”_

_“Good. Why don’t you take a walk?”_

_“A walk? Neil, it’s midnight.”_

_“Right, of course. You’ve had a long day, go lie down. I’m going to have a talk with Billy.”_

It wasn’t a quiet conversation. But it wasn’t anything special. It was the humiliation of someone hearing him get smacked around that had seared the night into his memory. At the time it hadn’t occurred to him that eventually she’d be a quivering spectator in the background of their boring little family drama.

               He hated Susan. But he understood her. She was the kind of woman people shook their heads at and called a poor mousy little thing. And she was that. But she wasn’t stupid. She knew they were all trapped here, in the middle of nowhere, in a town no one had ever heard of, in a house that wasn’t built to last. And despite everything, Billy couldn’t quite find it in himself to blame her for deciding that she’d rather not be the one on the receiving end of the kind of slap that knocks your head back against a wall.

               “Do you want a cookie?” She pointed to the cooling rack on the kitchen table that held the previous batch.

               “No.”

               “Take a cookie, Billy.”

               She sounded annoyed, so he took one and bit its head off. It wasn’t good, but on the bright side it wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever made. The bottom of the cookie wasn’t burned until it resembled coal. The crunching sound filled the whole kitchen.

               Susan smiled at him. “It’s almost Christmas. Have you written your letter to Santa yet?”

 _What the fuck did I take last night?_ No, he’d been at home in his room reading last night. Besides, no one brought anything stronger than weed to the parties here. He looked down at the cookie in his hand. _Maybe she’s finally snapped and drugged me?_

               “Maxine wrote hers. We’ve been doing it for years. She loves it. You could write one this year too.”

               He put the beheaded gingerbread man back on the cooling rack. “I’ve gotta go change. I said I’d take her to the arcade.”  

               “Oh.” He thought she was going to call him on his bluff, but then she swept crumbs from the table into the palm of her hand and nodded. “Thank you, Billy.”

               He scrambled out of the kitchen, took a shower, and got changed in record speed. There was no way Max loved writing fake letters to Santa. The certainty with which he knew that scared him. His dad might not be his biggest fan, but at least he knew him well enough to come to that conclusion. He had no delusions about him being a son worth bragging about. He had to get out of the house before he put his hand through a wall. He pounded on Max’s door with a fist.

               She yanked it open and glared at him. “What?”

               “Put on your coat. I’m taking you to the arcade.”

               “Very funny, asshole. My mom already told me no.”

               “Well, she told me yes. So, let’s go.”

               She crossed her arms. “Why?”

               “Let’s _go._ ”

               He drove like a maniac the whole way to the arcade and took off as soon as she was inside. Tommy had invited him to some get together at the quarry. He didn’t do middle of the day get togethers. No one drank enough at them to make them any fun. But if he didn’t do something then he’d go back to the house and get into it with Susan. Tommy and Carol weren’t his best friends, but they were the best he had in this town. They’d keep him distracted with their bullshit for a couple of hours.           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, someone else decides to go to the quarry. Obvious spoiler alert: that someone is Steve.


	8. Chapter 8

               Last year, he’d skipped the holiday gathering at the quarry to take Nancy out to the movies. This year, she had plans with Jonathan, so he returned to the tradition. Sometimes he forgot that he had friends besides the two of them and a bunch of kids. When everything fell apart, he wouldn’t call the guys on the basketball team, but they were still his friends. Fair weather friends, as his mom called them. They invited him to parties or to hang out at the diner for a couple hours after school. It wasn’t so long ago that he counted down the minutes until the school day ended so he could spend time with them.

               Steve parked in the same spot he always did, right next to Tommy’s car. A hard habit to break. He went over to join the crowd scattered over the gravely spot people called the beach. His arrival didn’t cause the fanfare it would’ve before he’d taken a tumble off the social ladder, but a lot of people still grinned at him. Ethan waved him over.

               “Didn’t think you’d show.” Ethan pressed a can of coke into his hand.

               He cracked it open. “And what? Miss standing around out here with a juice box?”

               People didn’t really drink at the holiday gathering. Probably because it took place in the middle of the day and out in the middle of nowhere. If you got wasted at the quarry, you sure as hell couldn’t walk all the way home and you risked driving off the road and down into the water if you got behind the wheel. Two years ago, he’d brought a flask and gotten carried away. Tommy had wrangled him home, but not before Steve puked all over his shoes. The next morning, he’d driven him all the way out to Sears to make it up to him. Tommy had wanted to get Carol something special for Christmas. Something you couldn’t get in Hawkins. Steve tried and failed to recall what they’d ended up buying.

               “You staying out of trouble?” Ethan asked.

               “Yeah.”

               “Good. Better keep it that way,” Ethan said. “We got _destroyed_ this season. We can’t have you sitting out games next year because your face gets busted up again.”

               A couple of the guys grunted in agreement.

               “Who the fuck did that to you anyway? You never told us.”

               “Don’t remember.”

               “Jesus, man.” Ethan shook his head. “Next year, we’ve gotta kick ass. We could go to some better away games. Just think about the parties.”

               Steve nodded and listened to the other guys jump in. He didn’t point out that the reason they’d never make it to better away game parties was because the reason most of the guys joined the team was for the parties. None of them could play for shit. Well, none of them except for Billy. He searched the crowd for him and found him standing near the water with Tommy and Carol. He passed the cigarette in his hand to her. She took it with a smirk and said something. Billy threw his head back and howled with laughter. Tommy shoved Carol playfully. She squealed and passed the cigarette back to Billy before pulling Tommy in for a kiss.

               They didn’t look right together. There was something about Billy that made him look out of place next to them. Hell, something about him made him look out of place anywhere in Hawkins. But they were a good match. All three of them were complete assholes. They were made for each other. He turned his attention back to the conversation that had moved on from basketball to throwing out ideas for a senior prank.

               It was fun. Talking about nothing of importance with a bunch of people who didn’t know they’d almost been eaten alive by a flood of monsters just a few weeks ago. It was getting dark by the time he decided to head home because he didn’t have anything better to do anyway. Almost everyone had left, only a couple of stragglers hung around by their cars postponing the inevitable moment when they’d have to go home and help prepare for swarms of relatives coming into town.

               He split away from Ethan and went up towards where he’d parked. He almost backtracked. Of course, Tommy was leaving at the same time. He had one foot inside his car and one arm slung over its roof. He squinted towards where Carol was standing with Nicole. He waved her over, but she raised her hand in a way that Steve knew meant she needed a couple more minutes to wrap up a gossip session.

               Tommy sighed in annoyance and turned around to lower himself into his car. Their eyes met.

               Steve shoved his hands in his pockets. Mostly because his hands were freezing, but partially because he wanted to show that he wasn’t in the mood for a fight. “Hey.”

               “Hey.”

               “Tell your folks Merry Christmas for me.”

               Tommy scowled. Anyone else would think he was pissed off. But Steve wasn’t anyone. They’d known each other forever. And he couldn’t pinpoint what it was about this scowl that was different from Tommy’s pissed off scowl, but he recognized the look right away. It was the same look he’d had on his face when Steve had laughed at someone calling him a ‘freckle faced freak’ at a party because he’d missed the moment when Tommy had started feeling self-conscious about his freckles. He’d felt like shit about it after, because it was the look Tommy got when something hurt his feelings and he didn’t want anyone to know.

               “Hey, I was-”

               The sputtering whine of a car failing to start drowned out whatever Tommy had started saying. They cringed in unison. A couple cars away from them Billy shouted a string of curses and slammed his door. The sound echoed through the quarry like a thunderclap. This elicited a fresh round of swearing from Billy who stalked back down to the beach, scoped a rock off the ground, and hurled it into the distance.

               Steve raised his eyebrows. “Good luck dealing with that, man.”

               Tommy watched Billy for a couple seconds then shook his head. “Fuck that. I’m not going over there.”

               He rolled his eyes, because Tommy liked being dramatic. “Sure.”

               “I’m serious. No way I’m letting his psycho ass in my car.”

               “You hang out with him all the time,” Steve pointed out.

               Tommy draped himself over his car door to lean closer to him and lowered his voice. “Wanna know something?”

               “Sure.” He stepped closer to hear better. High school drama was stupid once you found out that monsters were real, but he was dying to hear the dirt on Billy. Keep your enemies close, or whatever.

               “He lives on Old Cherry Road.” Tommy smirked. “He might be the new Keg King, but he’ll always be trash.”

               Steve blinked.

               Tommy winked at him and punched his shoulder. “Happy holidays, Stevie.”

               Steve watched dumbfounded as he got in his car, laid on the horn, and drove a couple feet over to Carol.          

               Tommy was an asshole. Tommy was a good friend. These two seemingly incompatible traits existed in him much like a terrifying version of the quarry existed in the same exact place in the Upside Down. He was the kind of guy who found a ladder and spray painted a movie theater in the center of town when his best friend got his heart broken. Before Nancy, it had always been the two of them. Steve and Tommy. Tommy and Steve. They’d been best friends for as long as Steve could remember. Longer than he could remember.

_Orange juice spurts out of Tommy’s nose as he laughs. Steve laughs too. Wipes his sticky fingers on the table cloth. His arms feel weird and stiff in a suit. A torso appears and tells them to stop making a mess. First day of kindergarten. Tommy sniffling in the red and blue plastic house at playtime. Steve telling him that of course his mom won’t forget to pick him up at the end of the day. That if she does then it doesn’t matter anyway because then Tommy can come home with him and his dad can buy them a bunkbed. Flying down the big hill by Tommy’s house. No training wheels on his bike for the first time. Flying right into the poison ivy at the end of the lane. Metal scraping against the pavement behind him. Tommy, bare legs and all in the thick of it all peeling him up off the ground. Holding a flashlight up under his face, thumb on the rubber button. Flicking it on and off, fast, over and over again. The light casting shadows against the walls of the tent. They are in the backyard of Steve’s house, but it’s like being in the woods. Tommy grins too wide, a little scared, a gaping hole where he lost a tooth. The sleeping bag slippery under his hands when he crawls out of it after Tommy shakes him awake in the middle of the night and says he wants to go inside. Tommy showing him the cigarette he snuck out of his mom’s purse. Choking together on the smoke. Tommy playing shitty music when he picks him up and drives him to school for three months straight because he’s older and gets his driver’s license first. Tommy holding his legs up on the night he’s crowned keg king. The next morning, hearing Tommy over the sound of his own vomiting telling his dad that there’s a stomach flu going around. Tommy on the couch, moody and hungover. Steve next to him, miserable, watching Nancy talking with some other guy on the other side of the room, face glowing like they’re not at the world’s most boring party. Tommy’s hand landing on his shoulder. Just go for it, Stevie. She doesn’t bite. Tommy’s lazy smirk. Or maybe she does, if you ask real nice. Tommy. Tommy. Tommy._

               When they’d been friends, Tommy would’ve burned the whole town to the ground for him if he’d asked. Probably even without being asked. Which had always been problematic, but you also didn’t make friends like that every day.

               Will’s voice echoed in his head.

_I don’t think he even has friends._

               Steve walked around to get into his car and fiddled with his keys. He watched Billy hurling rocks out into the water.

               _Shit._

               He leaned his forehead against the freezing cold roof of his car and breathed out. Sometimes he didn’t make decisions. Something made them for him and then he had to catch up and work out the rest. It was going to happen. He knew it with the same rush of inevitability that he’d known he’d go back into the Byers’ house when he saw the lights flickering inside. He was going to go over there and risk getting his head ripped off. He shoved the keys back in his pocket and looked around. Everyone else had left. It was just the two of them. If Billy drowned him in the quarry there’d be no witnesses. Then again, did Billy ever do anything if he didn’t have a captive audience?

               Snow and gravel crunched under his sneakers. He watched Billy scoop more rocks from the ground. He whipped one across the ice so that it slid and fell into the water that hadn’t frozen over yet.

               “You gonna try out for pitcher?”

               “Fuck off, Harrington. I’m not in the mood.”

               “Didn’t know that was possible. You want me to call the papers?”

               “You looking to get your ass kicked again?”

               That should’ve scared him. It didn’t. Probably because his father was right, something had gotten knocked loose in his head. “You don’t scare me. Not like you’ve got a plate squeezed into those jeans along with your ass.”

               Billy turned around to face him, another rock held loose in his hand. As per usual, his jacket was open and he’d forgotten to finish buttoning up his shirt. “You think I need a plate to mess you up?”

               “I think your battery’s not as immune to the cold as you.” Steve wasn’t scared, but he wasn’t insane. “If you’re lucky you can get it going again with a jump.”

               “You’re a car expert now, huh?”

               “No, dumbass. I grew up in _Indiana._ You think this is the first time I’ve seen the cold screw with a car battery?”

               Billy glanced at his watch and groaned. “Fuck me.”

               “Manners Hargrove, at least buy a guy a drink first.”

               The quip didn’t register with Billy, who ran a hand through his hair, looked off into the distance chewing on his lip before nodding and meeting his eyes with a disturbing intensity. “Okay, then. Give me a jump.”

               “I can’t. I don’t have the cables with me.” Before he could go on to explain that he could drive home and get them or swing by and ask to borrow them from someone, Billy marched past him. He didn’t even bother knocking a shoulder into him. Steve thought he planned to throw the rock in his hand at his windshield, but then he dropped it and kept going past the cars and to the road. He watched him stalk his way uphill and out of sight before figuring it out.

_That crazy asshole is planning to walk home._

               Steve jogged back to his car. It didn’t take him long to catch up to Billy. He slowed to a roll and drove alongside him for a while. Billy zipped up his jacket and kept walking… down the middle of the road.

               “You know,” he said, as if this were a perfectly normal way to have a conversation. “Generally, people don’t walk down the middle of the road when it’s full of this thing called curves. Keeps them from getting run over.”

               “Fun fact. I’ll have to write it down for trivia night.” Billy didn’t slow his pace.

               “You didn’t let me finish back there. I can get the cables. Just give me a couple minutes, I’ll come back with them.”

               “I can’t wait. I have to pick up Max in fifteen minutes.”

               It was the last thing Steve expected to hear in response. For one, it was impossible to _drive_ from here to the arcade in fifteen minutes. For another, he knew guys like Billy Hargrove. They weren’t punctual. He jerked the car to a stop.

               “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.”

               If someone asked him, he’d lie and say he did it to be the better person, ‘tis the season and all that. Or maybe he’d say he didn’t want Max to be stuck at the arcade. But really, he did it because he knew that if he drove past Tommy with Billy Hargrove in the passenger seat it would piss him off. It was petty and immature. But screw it. High school wasn’t over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading lovelies. It took a while to get there, but from now on these two will be seeing a lot more of each other.


	9. Chapter 9

               Billy slouched into the passenger side of the car. The last time he’d been in a car, but not behind the wheel had been the day he’d bought his Camaro. He’d used the money his mom gave him on his birthday to make up the difference between the previous owner’s asking price and the money his dad gave him to buy himself a car. His father hadn’t been happy with the purchase, but didn’t say a word about it. At that point, he was as sick of dropping Billy off places as Billy was sick of being within swinging distance of his arm in public places like outside the school or in the grocery store parking lot. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes.

               “Step on it, Harrington. My grandma drivers faster than you.” He was pretty sure neither one of his grandmothers ever even learned how to drive, but he’d never met either of them so he couldn’t be certain. Either way, if they went any slower, they’d be parking. Come to think of it, Steve always drove like that, but he'd attributed it to a show of responsibility when driving with kids.

               Steve kept his eyes on the road. “Do you know what happens when it gets all nice and warm in the middle of the day like it did today?”

               There was snow on the ground. It wasn’t nice or warm. Not that he expected someone who’d probably never made it further out of Hawkins than Indianapolis to understand that. “You forget how to hit the gas?”

               “All that sunlight hits the snow. And what happens to snow when it gets warm?” Steve asked patronizingly. He didn’t pause long enough to let Billy tell him to shut the fuck up and drive. “That snow starts to melt and gets all over the roads. And when the sun goes down all of that water freezes and it turns into black ice.”

               He knew all about black ice. His father lectured him about it all the time, no doubt for Max’s benefit. He wasn’t interested in the Steve Harrington remix. “I need to be at the arcade in nine minutes.”

               Steve looked over at him, hair flopping almost into his eyes. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re wound kinda tight for a guy from California? Chill out, Hargrove. She’s twelve and she’s at an arcade. She’s not even gonna notice you’re late.”

               Billy pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted to say a lot of things.  _How the fuck would you know how guys in California are wound? Don’t fucking tell me to chill out. And, have you met her? She’s going to notice._ “Thirteen.”

               “What?”

               “She’s thirteen,” he spat out, annoyed with himself for knowing it. “And we don’t do late. It’s a whole thing. She’s going to- I can’t be late.”

               Steve turned left into a road they’d almost passed so that they ended up in the wrong lane. He drifted back into the right lane, apparently confident there wouldn’t be any oncoming traffic. It wasn’t a short cut. He’d lived in Hawkins long enough now that he knew the trip would take longer this way. The asshole was doing it on purpose. Probably got off on preppy passive aggressive shit like this. Billy wanted to punch him in the face or at least call him out on it. But he couldn’t. He needed the ride. He had to pick up Max before she called home for a ride. Susan would call his dad at work and ask him to pick her up on his way home. Nothing enraged his dad more than getting calls at work. It shouldn’t scare him anymore. He should be used to it. But he never got used to it.

               They veered off the road and onto the shoulder. Steve pointed out the window. Billy waited for him to tell him to get the hell out of the car. Maybe that had been the plan all along. To strand him out in the middle of nowhere, off the main road where he could at least try to hitchhike back into town. Considering their history that made a lot more sense than a genuine offer to help.

               “Get me a pen out of the glovebox.”

               His hands obeyed before his brain could catch up to what was happening. He opened the compartment, expecting it to be full of the kind of junk that gathered up in any teenage guy’s car. Crumpled up receipts, greasy napkins, expired condoms, old candy wrappers, maybe a never opened car manual. Instead he found a flashlight, a first-aid kit, and a giant walkie talkie. And a pen.

               Harrington had already gotten out of the car and into a phone booth. His skin glowed in its dim yellow light. He dug some change out of his pocket and dialed. Billy followed him, pen in hand.

               “Hi, Ms. Byers. It’s Steve.”

                _Byers._

               A chill crawled into his spine. “What the fuck? You’re making a phone call right now?”

               “Shut up,” Steve snapped then put his hand over the receiver. He scowled when he realized his mistake and removed his hand. “Sorry, Ms. Byers. Not you. Everything’s fine. Listen, can you give me the number for the arcade? I want to ask Dustin something.”

               Steve stretched his hand out towards him and for a bizarre moment, Billy thought Steve was asking to hold his hand. Then he remembered that he was still holding the pen. He handed it over, careful not to let their fingers brush. Steve cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder and wrote the number down on the palm of his own hand. “Uhuh- Yeah I got it. Thank you… No, that’s nobody. Thanks again.”

               “Nobody, huh?” Billy crossed his arms as a rush of relief hit him with the force of a freight train. It might work. All the other nerds listened to Steve. It might work with Max too.

               “Shut up.” Steve punched in the number and waited. “Hey, Keith. It’s Steve. Is Max around?... Yes, Mad Max. Put her on. I gotta talk to her… I dunno. I’ll let you copy my math homework or something... What? No. And fuck you. Just put her on the phone. I’ll owe you one.”

               Billy shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. The darkness and silence pressed down on him from all sides. The cold air tasted metallic. He looked around, but couldn’t see anything. _There’s no reason to be scared of the dark. Monsters aren’t real._ His mom told him that when he’d asked for a night light. He’d believed her and stopped asking for one. It occurred to him for the first time that dissuading him from getting one had been her way of protecting him. Only the kinds of wusses who got their ass kicked needed a night light. He was too old now to need reassurance in the face of darkness, but the visceral tension in his gut insisted otherwise.  

               “Hey, Max. It’s Steve… No, nothing like that. I’m just calling to tell you that uhh…” Steve looked over at him as if he might offer some help. “Billy’s going to be late picking you up. I think his car battery died… No, he’s here with me… Uhh yea… Sure, just a second.” He held the phone out to him. “She wants to talk to you.”

               He stepped closer to take it, caging Steve into the corner of the booth. “What?”

               “Billy, what’s going on? Why are you with Steve?”

               He ignored the questions because he’d just heard Steve explain all of that to her. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there soon.”

               “You better not be starting something.”

               “Or what?”

               She paused so long that if it wasn’t for the electronic beeps and chirps blaring in the background, he’d think the call dropped. “I’ll tell Neil.”

               And that was so magnificently fucked up that it took his breath away. It was a real shame they were having this conversation over the phone because it would be something to see her face as he dragged her down into the muck with him.  _You know. You know exactly what you did._

               “You do that. Let me know how it works out for you.” He slammed the phone back into its cradle. It would work out great for her. He wanted to tear into her until he got down to the bare boned truth of her threat, but he wasn’t going to do it over the phone, a foot away from Steve Harrington. Billy made plenty of mistakes, but he tried not to repeat them. “Let’s go.”’

               Steve raised his eyebrows, like he wanted to say something about his lack of phone manners, but instead pushed past him and threw the pen back in the glovebox before going back around to the driver’s side.

               They were back on the road and Billy wanted to crawl out of his skin. Max wasn’t going to tell his dad shit. Probably. He reached into his pocket for a smoke. His hand wrapped around the crumpled remains of a pack of cigarettes. He’d shared his last one with Carol. He opened the glovebox again and pulled out the walkie-talkie. “What the fuck is this thing?”

               “That’s for emergencies.”

               “Emergencies?” Billy fiddled with the dial. Static burst out of it. “Like what? The zombie apocalypse?”

               “You never know.”

               Billy laughed. Steve didn’t. He turned the thing off and shoved it back in the glovebox along with his disappointment. He’d expected Steve to get defensive and explain that it belonged to one of the nerds he was always driving around. Goading Steve into a stupid argument would keep him distracted. Even better, he hoped Steve might throw a clever comeback at him. They could toss those back and forth at each other for the rest of the ride. He missed that. Tommy sucked at banter. Carol was only a little better. It wasn’t any fun saying shit to someone who didn’t throw it back properly.

               They drove in silence. Billy bounced his leg. Not erratically to calm his nerves, but deliberately to irritate Steve. It didn’t work. Steve pulled into the driveway of a house in the middle of nowhere. It couldn’t be Harrington’s house, because the guy drove a brand-new Beemer. People who had that much cash lying around didn’t live in a place smaller than his house, even if it looked better maintained. Whoever lived here clearly cared about the place.

               “What’s this? Your closet?”

               “Very funny.” Steve got out of the car and jerked his thumb at the mailbox. “Mr. and Mrs. Davis live here. We can borrow jumper cables from them.”

               “Oh yea?” Billy perked up. “Is she hot?”

               “She’s like sixty.”

               “You’re so closed minded, Harrington. Age is just a number.”

               Steve ignored him and rang the doorbell. Billy leaned back against the porch railing and put on a smile. Charming women was his specialty. Small town housewives, he'd discovered, got especially flustered around him and it entertained him to no end. He liked the attention. Sue him. He dropped the act when Mr. Davis opened the door instead. Men like this were his other specialty. He had a knack for pissing them off. Which was a lot less entertaining, because when you punched someone your age in the school parking lot, they called it a scuffle, but when you punched a man like that then suddenly everyone called it battery. Men like that owned guns or called cops, sometimes both.

               “Mr. Harrington.” Mr. Davis trailed off as his eyes slid over to Billy. His eyes narrowed. “Do you know what time it is?”

               “Sure do,” Steve said cheerfully. “Hate to bother you right at dinner time, but would you mind lending me some jumper cables?”

               “Jumper cables?”

               “Yep, you know me. Always trying to help.”

               Mr. Davis looked back at Steve with an expression Billy knew. It was the look that said, don’t mess with me or I’ll make you pay. “Wait here.”

               The minutes dragged as they waited outside. Steve had his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and was bobbing his head up and down as if to a song only he could hear. He hated the stupid flutter in his chest that found it cool. It wasn’t cool. It was fucking weird. Billy wanted to take the car keys from him. Mr. Davis might come back with an axe and they’d need someone behind the wheel who could drive.

               “Here you go.” Mr. Davis returned, without an axe, jumper cables in hand. “You boys behave.”

               He looked over at Billy when he said the last part. Billy never could resist a challenge, so he tilted his head a little, in a way he knew drew attention to his earring and smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of anything else, sir.”

               “Thanks. I’ll have these back to you later today.” Steve took the cables, turned around, and grabbed Billy right above the elbow.

               If he’d know that was all it took to get manhandled by Harrington it would have saved him so much time. He let himself get dragged all the way back to the car. “Scared I’ll ruin your golden boy reputation?”

               “Don’t flatter yourself.” Steve let him go and threw the cables in the trunk. “He thinks I spray-painted the marquee at the movie theater.”

               They got back in the car.

               “Did you?”

               Steve swung his arm around the passenger seat to reverse out of the driveway. “Tommy did.”

               Billy could feel the press of his arm against his back through the seat. “And you took the fall for him?”

               “Something like that.”

               “You’re even dumber than I thought.” Half the point of being friends with a Tommy was to have someone around to take the fall for you. The arrangement didn’t make any sense otherwise. He could add it to his long list of things that didn’t make sense about Steve. The weight of the hand disappeared.

               “I think the words you’re looking for are- thank you.”

               “Why’d we go to this guys house if he thinks you’re a delinquent?”

               “You need a jump. He lives closest to the quarry. ”

               Steve said it as if it were obvious. As if people were obligated to help you out even if they hated your guts, as long as you rang the doorbell and asked them politely. Maybe that really was the way things worked if you were Steve Harrington. Billy stared out the window into the endless darkness and thought about the ache lingering in his hands for days after he’d smashed them over and over against Steve’s face.

 


	10. Chapter 10

               They drove back to the quarry in silence. Out of the corner of his eye Steve could see Billy staring out the window. He chanced a full on glance and discovered that he looked almost thoughtful. It was a disturbing turn of events. Billy never shut up and as far as he knew, didn't do a whole lot of thinking. It struck him, kind of late into his act of extreme generosity, that he really didn’t know much about Billy Hargrove. Steve parked next to the Camaro and leaned over to take the flashlight out of the glove compartment. Billy bolted out of the car before his fingers found the latch. Which reminded him that diving a hand in the direction of another guy’s knee in a parked car with no warning wasn’t the smartest move.

               He got out of the car, flashlight in hand, and popped the hood of his car. Billy stood off to the side, hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket, a ridiculous magazine cover ready curl in his face. If Steve didn’t know better, he’d say he looked wary.

               “What are you doing for the holidays?” He didn’t care, but the silence was starting to freak him out.

               It didn't take him long enough to come up with his response. “Thought I’d put on a Santa suit and crawl down a couple chimneys. Steal some cookies and smokes. Maybe gift a frustrated housewife with the fuck of a lifetime.”

               “You’re disgusting.” Steve turned on the flashlight. It flickered. He smacked it hard against the flat of his palm and waited. It didn’t flicker again.

               Billy sauntered closer to him. “Don’t tell me you never thought about it. You dated Wheeler. Her mom’s a knockout. Ever seen her in a bathrobe?”

               Steve shoved the flashlight into his mouth and held it with his teeth. He could’ve told Billy to hold it for him, but that would leave him free to respond. He didn’t think it was necessary to explain the obvious, that no, even at his shittiest, he had never considered screwing around which his girlfriend’s mother. Also, he’d never spied on her walking around in a bathrobe. And he did not want the responsibility of following up on how Billy had seen her in one.

               _Serves you right. Trying to have a normal conversation with him._

               He hooked up the cables.

               “Would you look at that. Rich boy really does know something about cars.”

               “Here.” Steve shoved the other end of the cables and the flashlight into his hands. “Hook these up. Try not to electrocute yourself.”

               “Nice of you to care.”

               He got back in his car and waited until Billy gave him the thumbs up to start up the car. He didn’t bother getting back out to keep him company. As far as he was concerned, he’d done his good deed for the day. Hell, he’d done his good deeds for the rest of what was left of the year.

               Billy slid back into the passenger side of the car. “Jesus, I’d kill for a smoke.”

               Smoking wasn’t really his thing. He indulged once in a while, but for the most part he’d gotten in the habit of carrying around a pack in case someone asked him if they could bum a smoke off him. The move where he pulled one out from behind his ear and offered it up never got old. If the person asking happened to be a chick he was into, then he went through the whole bit, took out his lighter and covered up the flame for her to give them an excuse to lean into each other. He used to do it with Carol to annoy Tommy. Not that there’d ever been anything going on between the two of them.

               Steve pulled a pack of Marlboro's out of the center console and thumbed it open.

               “Thanks.”

               That really said something about the level of Billy’s nicotine depravation, because so far, he hadn’t bothered to thank him for anything.

               “So,” Billy said, after he lit the cigarette without asking if he could smoke in the car or if he should at least roll down the window. “What are you doing for the holidays?”

               He wasn’t going to tell Billy about the boring dinner he was going to have with his parents, sitting around a dining room table they used around three times a year. “We’re doing a thing on the twenty sixth. Max is gonna need a ride.”

               “Yeah, six o’clock. Byers place. Brat hasn’t stopped talking about it for a week. And you’re gonna be there, huh?”

               Steve revved the engine. “Go try to start your car, asshole.”

               That earned him an exhale of smoke to the face, but Billy listened. He got out then into his car. The Camaro’s engine came to life with a familiar roar.

               “Told you,” he mouthed. He didn’t bother hiding the smug look on his face.

               He wasn’t sure if Billy saw it though, because he slammed both hands down on the steering wheel, threw his head back and howled a whoop. It echoed around the quarry, transformed over and over by collisions with walls of stone until it no longer sounded human.

              

***

 

               The day after Christmas, all of them gathered at the Byers house. From a logical perspective it didn’t make sense for them to celebrate there. It was the smallest house available to them and all of them had terrible memories there. Getting to it wasn’t convenient or pleasant. It connected all of them though, in a way he didn’t find possible to describe coherently. In that way, it made perfect sense for them to gather there.

               After a dinner cobbled together with everyone’s Christmas leftovers and Ms. Byers’ attempt at a pot roast, Steve found himself sitting on the living room floor surrounded by discarded bits of wrapping paper from the gifts being exchanged. The room smelled of pine and warm apple pie. Hopper had brought the pie. Jonathan had stuck it in the oven for a couple minutes to warm it up so they could have it with melting scoops of vanilla ice cream on the side. As far as he was concerned the guy deserved a free ride to the college of his choice. Genius like that didn’t come around every day.

               “Here.” Dustin threw a package into his lap, the end of a candy cane dangling from his lips like a cigarette.

               Steve turned it over in his hands. It was suspiciously well wrapped. The kids had wrapped their gifts to each other themselves and it showed. “This better not be one of your experiments.”

               “You wound me,” Dustin said, not looking the slightest bit hurt. “My mom made it. Aunt Margie sent her a lot of yarn for the holidays.”

               Steve tore the wrapping and pulled out a sweater. It was dark green and soft. It looked great. He shook it out and turned it around to look at the front. It had pompoms in every color imaginable sown haphazardly all over the front.

               “This is…” Steve kept his voice even. “Wow.”

               Dustin chortled. “You should see your face.”

               “Oh, you think this is funny?” Steve pulled on the sweater. It was kind of cold in the house anyway. “I’m wearing this _everywhere_. Get ready to see me in this when I drop you off at the arcade, in the school parking lot, at your graduation.”

               “It’s hideous,” Mike said with his usual brutal honesty.

               “Mike,” El chided. “Not nice.”

               “What? He looks like a Christmas tree.”

               Max looked up from where she was replacing her shoelaces with a colorful set Lucas had gotten for her. “He looks like he got attacked by a kindergarten supply closet.”

               El considered him from the sofa. She still didn’t talk much. Not that Steve could blame her. Even Hopper and Joyce had retreated into the kitchen to escape the racket of kids shouting about their presents and rambling about going skating tomorrow. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for her. The others had filled him in on the highlights of her past. This had to be a lot to handle after a childhood spent locked away in a government lab followed by a year of hiding out in Hopper’s cabin.

               She smiled at him shyly when their eyes met. “I like Christmas trees.”

               “And that’s why you’re my favorite.” Steve pulled a box topped with an enormous red bow from under the tree. Wrapping presents was one of his hidden talents. “I’m putting you in charge of this.”

               She took it from him and set it on the coffee table. “Pretty.”

               Lucas rolled his eyes. “Just open it.”

               “Shut up!” Mike elbowed him.

               “Hey!” Hopper yelled from the kitchen without even sticking his head in. “What did I say about yelling?”

               “Sorry!” It was kind of adorable when all of them shouted it in unison.

               El tugged on the bow and when it unraveled took the lid off the box. She pulled out the crumpled tissue paper he’d arranged inside and pulled out a piggy bank. The coins clinked against each other and the porcelain when she turned it over in her hands.

               “For the arcade or whatever.”

               Nancy laughed from her seat next to Jonathan. It seemed like only a few days ago that she’d complained to him about Mike raiding her piggy bank. He could tell she hadn’t told Jonathan about it because he looked confused. He also looked awkward sitting next to her, like the two of them hadn’t really fallen into the rhythm of being together with that many people around.

               Dustin took the piggy bank from her and shook it. “This is awesome.”

               "Cool!" Will agreed. 

               Mike took the ribbon from the table and tied it in a bow around El’s wrist. It didn’t look that good, but Steve supposed this was one of those, it’s the thought that counts, moments. El watched Mike do it with a wide eyed adoration that for a moment made Steve long to be in love again.

               “Are we gonna watch this movie or what?” Max shook the VHS tape of _Raiders of the Lost Arc_ at them.

               Jonathan took it from her and went over to the VCR. “Haven’t you guys seen this thing a million times?”

               “It’s a classic,” Lucas said sagely. “You can never watch a classic too many times.”

               “It’s not a classic,” Dustin pointed out. “It came out like three years ago.”

               “Fine. It’s _going_ to be a classic. Happy?”

               Steve rolled his eyes and escaped into the kitchen. As fond as he was of the kids, he didn’t think he could sit through another one of their debates. All their teachers deserved medals for putting up with them. At least he could take a day off from them whenever he wanted to.

               Hopper grinned up at him from his seat at the kitchen table. He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. “You need some backup in there?”

               “Backup?” Steve laughed. “No way I’m going back in there. You’re on your own.”

               “Wish me luck.” Hopper put on his hat which was ridiculous because there was no way that was going to scare the kids. He was outnumbered, and they knew it. Still Steve heard them fall into silence when Hopper went into the living room and said, “Quiet down, all of you. I haven’t seen this one yet.”

               Steve gathered up a couple stray plates from the table and stacked them in the sink. Ms. Byers handed him a cup of eggnog. He took a hesitant sip, expecting nothing but sugar, eyes going wide when the whiskey hit him.

               She winked mischievously. “Don’t tell Hopper.”

               He mimed sealing his lips and tossing away the key which earned him a pat on the shoulder before she followed Hopper out into the living room. He knew the kinds of things people in town said about Ms. Byers. She was probably as far from having a ‘cool’ mom reputation as you could get. Which went to show how little people in Hawkins knew about anything.

               Steve took another sip of eggnog and almost dropped the cup when he saw Billy smoking by the shed in the backyard. The kids’ racket must have drowned out the roar of his Camaro. Of course, the guy had taken the opportunity to sneak around to the other side of the house. He glanced at his watch. It was only eight thirty.

               Billy stared into the house with a weird expression. If someone had twisted his arm and forced him to guess, he would’ve called it longing. But it was probably just the way the shadows happened to fall across his face and give his features an uncharacteristic softness. Either that or Ms. Byers had spiked the eggnog with a lot more whiskey than he’d thought.

               Steve abandoned the cup, shrugged on his coat, and went outside. “You’re early.”

               “Didn’t know you could tell time. Color me impressed, Harrington.” He could see the slight tinge of pink on Billy’s nose, as if he’d been standing out in the cold for a long time. For all Steve knew he’d been watching them eat dinner like a creep. “It’s a long driveway. Figured I’d drop by early just in case of another flat tire. Give myself plenty of time to get home.”

               “Uhuh.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets as he went down the steps. He glanced towards the forest, just in case.

               “Here,” Billy mumbled around his cigarette. He pulled out a red dish covered with aluminum foil from the rusted wheelbarrow and held it out to him. “It’s a casserole.”

               “What the fuck am I supposed to do with a cold casserole? We finished dinner half an hour ago.”

               “If I were you, I’d burn it. Susan can’t cook for shit.”

               “Who’s Susan?”

               Billy nodded his head towards the house, casserole dish still in his hands. “Redhead’s mother.”

               “Right.” Steve took it from him. He’d probably take it back home with him and throw it out there. The thing might be poisoned, and he didn’t want to find out what would happen if some squirrels got into the garbage and happened to eat it. Considering the history of this place they’d probably go rabid and try to kill them all.

               “There’s a new gremlin.”

               “A new what?”

               Billy knocked the ash off his cigarette. “You gotta get out of the house more, Harrington. Gremlins. Reptilian little hellions with sharp teeth. Rampage through the town and kill people.”

_He can’t know. There is no way._

“Guess they’re kind of cute, until you feed them.”

               It made perfect sense that Billy Hargrove would find demodogs cute. But how the hell did he know that Dustin had fed one nougat for days? He forced himself to stay calm. “You saw them?”

                “Was my date’s idea. Kind of a shame I missed the ending.”

               Steve blinked. This really was too much. There was some girl out there who also knew about all of this. “Who is she?”

               "Why?" Billy snorted. “Think she’s gonna drop in from Cali and blow you in the back of a movie theater too?”

“Oh, it’s a _movie._ ” Steve realized a moment too late that he’d said this out loud and with far too much relief.

               Billy gave him a weird look and did a vaguely circular hand wave near his head as if he was too lazy to bother with the full-on gesture for crazy. “So, who’s the new girl?”

               It wasn’t the sign for crazy. It was the sign for curls. “She’s Chief Hopper’s kid.”

               “Thought she was dead.”

               It was kind of impressive that Billy had heard about that. People didn’t talk about it. He only knew about it because he’d overheard his parents arguing one night about whether Hopper had gotten his job because people felt sorry for him. “Not that one. That’s Jane. He just found out about her. Some one-night stand never told him about her. Then the mom got sick and now he’s taking care of her.”

               It was a good story. Hopper had come up with it. It had a bit of scandal to keep the town busy shaking their heads at his womanizing and a bit of tragedy to have them treating El with an extra bit of kindness. The kids got a version that excluded the one-night stand bit, even though he was pretty sure they could read between the lines. Which only served to make it more believable.

               “She’s in town for a couple days to get to know him,” Steve recited. “Probably won’t be here permanently until summer.”

               “Jesus.” Billy pulled on his cigarette again. Or rather he pulled on the filter because at this point that was all that was left of the thing. It had to have tasted awful because his face scrunched up and his eyes went watery. He threw the thing to the ground and smashed it with his boot. “Fuck.”

               Steve didn’t really want to invite him in, but it was too cold to stand outside and he didn’t like the idea of leaving Billy unsupervised. “If you’re gonna wait for Max, we might as well go inside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments folks. They never fail to make my day.


	11. Chapter 11

_She looks like a prop corpse for a shitty movie. Someone at the funeral home wrangled her into a black dress and shoved her feet into black kitten heels. Combed her hair with a part right down the middle. She hates black. Hated black, he corrects himself. The funniest part is that they’ve put her in a mahogany coffin. It’s massive and ugly. It cost a fortune. The only thing he recognizes is the St. Christopher medallion._

_“It was a nice wake. Good turn out.” His father says it as if he’s writing up a review for the Arts & Entertainment section of the paper. Get your news. Read all about it. Shittiest event of the social season – woman dies. A couple people care. The rest of them show up because it’s what you do. _

_“She wanted her ashes scattered in the Pacific.”_

_The slap is perfunctory, like his father doesn’t have the attention span to do it justice._

_“Have some respect. She was a good Catholic and she’ll be buried like one.”_

_There is no real transition. That’s been happening a lot recently. He goes straight from calm to gasping sobs. It’s not the sting of the slap. It’s that she’s not even in the ground yet and she’s already being erased. There’s going to be some priest up there tomorrow talking about how she was a dutiful wife and mother and no one’s going to talk about the day he’d begged her to go to the record store and she told him no because she wanted to get her hair done. He’d been so angry. Had screamed that he hated her. Had slammed his bedroom door and refused to talk to her the rest of the day and all of the next morning. She’d picked him up from school with a Highway to Hell record in hand. Gave it to him in the middle of the school parking lot along with a box of condoms. 'You’re gonna need those for the pitstops on your way there.' She’d said it with a straight face and then howled with laughter when he turned red. He’d never been so mortified in his entire life. They were supposed to laugh about it one day. Maybe when he had kids of his own._

_“For Christ’s sake. Stop that.”_

_He knows this line – Stop that, before I give you something to cry about. But instead his father pulls his pocket square out of his suit and offers it to him. He looks unsure. It scares him. His father is always sure. Even when he’s wrong. Especially when he’s wrong. He accepts it and mops his face with it as best he can even though it’s going to ruin the silk._

_“Here.” His father reaches into the coffin and turns the pendant’s chain around on her neck until he’s holding the clasp. It takes him a couple tries to open it._

_“What are you doing?”_

_“He’s the patron saint of travelers, Billy.” Until this moment he isn’t aware his father’s vocal cords are capable of producing a whisper. His father grips the chain in his fist and dangles it out to him. “She doesn’t need it anymore.”_

_He holds out his hand and his father lowers the medallion into the center of his palm. He waits until Billy cradles it to let go of the chain. Billy puts it around his neck, fingers fumbling at the unfamiliar task. The pendant is cold from resting against her skin, but warms quickly against his._

               “Earth to Hargrove.”

               He didn’t remember going inside, but obviously he’d followed Harrington up the staircase, through the mudroom and into the kitchen. A new pale yellow phone hung on the wall. There were plates drying in the same spot on the counter. Steve had taken his coat off. And he couldn’t not comment on what was going on under it. No matter how shaken up he felt.

“Nice sweater.” His voice sounded too rough, so he coughed and cleared his throat, as if he’d never accidentally inhaled a burning cigarette filter before.

               “Thanks, thought I’d wear something special just for you.” Steve grinned at him, a perfect blend of vicious snark and cockiness. And fucking hell, how had the guy with the balls to throw that kind of line at him standing only a couple feet away from where he’d almost died, ever lost the crown?

               Steve sat down at the kitchen table covered in stacks of dirty plates and mugs awaiting washing and waved at the seat across from him. “What is it they say, amigo? Me casa es su casa?”

               Billy licked his lips. Steve Harrington was fucking with him. Dancing on the razor blade edge of the night he’d told him to never bring up. It was delightful. He dropped into a kitchen chair that had seen better years. “This isn’t your house.”

               “Yeah, well. I’m flunking Spanish.”

He laughed, too loud because it drew Max into the kitchen. The new girl, Jane hoovered in the darkness behind her. She looked like a good kid. The kind of kid that didn’t have inconvenient outbursts and break things. So maybe she’d end up fine raised by a guy who didn’t look like he had the patience to deal with the hassle of keeping a plant alive, no less a kid. Probably not.

               “What are you doing here?”

               “You ready to go?”

               Max crossed her arms. “I told you to pick me up at nine.”

               “No.”

               Things had been weird between them ever since the night his car battery died. By the time he’d gotten to the arcade they only had a couple minutes to spare to get home before his dad did. And that wasn’t enough time to get into it about _that_ night The other _that_ night. The one in California. The tension hung between them. A looming fight neither one of them wanted to start for fear of how it would end.

               “You told Susan you’d be _home_ at nine.” If he came from a family with money, he’d consider going to law school. With all the practice he got from arguing with her about technicalities he’d be a natural.

               “You drive fast. I’ve got at least fifteen more minutes.”

               It should’ve pissed him off, because that didn’t need to be said when a cop had his car parked outside. But he had more interesting things on his mind, so he waved her off. She glanced at Steve, checking with him first. Apparently, his thirteen-year-old step-sister knew Harrington well enough to communicate with him by looks alone. It gave him the creeps.

               “Go on,” Steve agreed. “We’re good in here.”

               He’d parked a little away from the house and gone around to the back, so he could stand in the thick trees and see them without being seen.  He’d watched them through the window, searching for even a shred of evidence that he hadn’t been wrong. That there had been _something_ going on that night. They’d sat around the table for ages, passing around food and laughing. Being completely boring and ordinary.

               He waited until Max and Jane disappeared, whispering to each other about some ribbon, to turn his attention back to Steve. Let himself openly stare at him, because it was safe. Safer than watching him through the windows. Nothing could happen when they were only a couple feet away from a cop, a bunch of kids, and some lady he assumed was Ms. Byers. Steve looked good in dark green. Ridiculous pompoms aside.

               “What?”

               Steve was wrong. They weren’t _good_ in here _._ They couldn’t be good when they were sitting a step away from where he broke a plate over Steve’s head. When a couple weeks ago he’d flung a _child_ at a shelf and screamed in his face. They couldn’t be good because Steve gave him a jump at the quarry and he’d driven away without saying thank you. _I’m sorry. Thank you._ The words clung to the back of his throat, a stubborn phlegm to cough up and spit out.

“Nothing.” Billy bit off a hangnail. “What are you doing on New Year’s?”

Words were just words. Besides, they’d agreed to never talk about that night so technically he was just holding up his end of the deal. Technically, he hadn’t asked for help at the quarry. Steve had offered.

               “Why?”

               He shrugged like there wasn’t any reason for it. Like he was just making normal teenage guy conversation. Which he was. If they read back the transcript in court it would qualify. “Tina’s throwing a party. You should come.”

               “I wasn’t invited.”

               “Pretty sure I just invited you.”   

               Steve scowled. “I’m not in a partying mood.”

               “No kidding.” All the unspoken words scratched against the back of his throat. It distracted him enough that he didn’t catch a couple others before they slipped out. “You haven’t been to a party since Halloween.”

               He knew because he’d been to all of them. And had looked for Steve at every single one. Had prowled into every corner, closet, bathroom, and bedroom in search of him. In search of something. It was a dangerous thing to admit. Thrilling too. Everything tasted better seasoned with a dash of recklessness.

Steve leaned back in his seat. “How would you know?”

               “You’d be surprised how much I know.”

               He didn’t know. He had no idea what Steve Harrington did when he wasn’t playing chauffeur.

               “You don’t know shit.” It wasn't a jab or an insult. It sounded like a simple statement of fact. Which meant that either Steve could see right through him or he had a secret that was starting to slip through the cracks. Either way, his pulse raced. Steve picked up a mug and downed whatever was in it. Billy watched the movement of his throat.

               “Come on,” Steve said. “You’d better get going if you want to make it home by nine.”

               He led him over the floorboards gouged out by Max, past the crowd of people starting at him instead of at Harrison Ford running around being hot, and out to the porch. Max emerged a moment later, zipping up her coat.

               “I parked a ways out.”

               “Why?” Max shoved her hands into a pair of purple mittens she’d gotten for Christmas.

               “The driveway’s full. I didn’t want to block anyone in.”

As if that had ever stopped him.

“You shouldn’t park so close to the woods at night. I’ll walk with you guys, just in case.”’

“In case what?” Billy snorted. “The boogeyman’s waiting out there for us?”

Steve picked up the enormous metal snow shovel resting against the side of the house and swung it over his shoulder. “Sometimes the snow slides down from the trees at night. Can bury a car pretty good.”

There couldn’t have been more than an inch or two of snow on the ground, but it was too soon to entertain the idea of arguing with Steve here of all places. He rolled his eyes and started walking towards his car. Their shoes crunched in the snow. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the forest was holding its breath and listening to them. _Watching_ them. That was what he got for staying up late reading _The Haunting of Hill House._

There wasn’t a single snowflake on his Camaro.

“Thanks for walking with us.”

_Well-mannered, manipulative little shit._

“Anytime.”

And then they were back in the same places as _that_ night. Billy sat in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down and Steve leaned in to talk to Max. He had one arm resting on the roof of the car and the other one on the shovel he’d set to the ground.

“Radio when you get home, or they’ll stay up worrying and make Jane check up on you.”

Max laughed. “Tell _them_ they worry too much.”

“Christ.” He gripped the steering wheel to ward off the urge to roll the window up on Steve’s neck and cut off their dumb exchange.

Steve dropped a hand on his arm, right below his elbow and squeezed. Billy felt body heat radiating into him through the stupid second-hand winter coat Susan had gotten him. Which was ridiculous. Because the coat was ugly and a bit worn, but it was thick and warm. Scientifically speaking there was no way he could feel the meager warmth of a hand through it. Billy looked up at Steve. He was always looking a little up at him. Except when he knocked him to the ground first. Steve’s eyes met his and the corner of his lip quirked up.

               “See you around, Hargrove.”

Yeah, he was officially fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks for the kudos and comments. The New Year is coming up for these silly kids!


	12. Chapter 12

                Nancy and Jonathan drove out to Indianapolis to ring in the New Year. They’d invited him to come along, but he’d declined and told them he’d gotten an invite to Tina’s party. Nancy had beamed at him. Her whole face always lit up at the mention of a party. Behind all those proper pastel sweaters and knee length skirts was a party animal waiting to burst out into the open and rampage through the town. He'd always loved that about her. There was no reason to ruin her enthusiasm by going on to clarify that Billy Hargrove had been the one to invite him. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was going there because of him. He just happened to find out about the party from him. They probably wouldn’t even acknowledge each other. It was nothing more than an opportunity to get out of the house and have a good night. Sure, the last time he’d tried to forget his problems with the help of a couple drinks and some dancing, it hadn’t worked out so well, but this time would be different. Practice made perfect.

                Tina threw decent parties. She didn’t have the best booze, the biggest house, or the loudest music. She invited everyone though. Which meant her parties got wild and out of control in a way that only parties of mismatched teenagers with nothing in common but a desire to party could get. Steve planned to walk there, but this was Hawkins. He didn’t make it far before Ethan pulled over and gave him a ride the rest of the way. Driving home wasn’t going to be an option. Drinking himself into a stupor hadn’t been his thing since he’d lost interest in beating his own record as Keg King. Tonight, it would be his thing again. He’d drink until he forgot about the horrid flower pattern on the wall of Tina’s bathroom. Once he forgot the year they’d be counting down to, he’d be at a good stopping point.

                Billy arrived a moment ahead of them. They watched him fling open the car door and sway out of it. He clung to the door to pull himself into a standing position, slammed it shut with both hands, and stumbled towards Tina’s house.

                 “Holy shit, can you believe him?” Ethan parked behind the Camaro. “He’s already loaded. You think it’s true what they say about him?”

                Carol used to keep him up to date on that kind of stuff. He shrugged as if the question bored him. As if he wasn’t _dying_ to hear the rumors. It had taken getting cut off from Carol for him to figure out that even though he’d complained to Tommy about it non-stop, he loved gossip. He took off his jacket and tossed it in the backseat. If he left it in a bedroom, some idiots would make out on top of it or worse.

                “Which part? People say a lot of shit.”

                “That he does coke.”

                Steve rolled his eyes and got out of the car. Music and light bled out of Tina’s house when Billy opened the front door and disappeared inside. “Who told you that?”

                “Tammy said she saw him do a line in the bathroom.” Ethan followed him up the driveway.

                As if Tammy would ever risk detention sneaking around in a bathroom with a guy. “Off what? His own dick? There’s not even a shelf in there.”

                Ethan laughed. “I dunno. I hear he’s got a whole twelve inches to work with.”

                “Don’t be ridiculous.” Because, yeah he’d checked. It was a perfectly normal, average sized dick attached to a muscled body with absolutely no tan lines. Not a single tan line. He’d double checked. Once summer hit, he’d be sporting at least five different ones plus a sunburn on his nose. The only logical answer was that Billy tanned naked. Which was even more ridiculous than rumors about him having a dick long enough to trip over. California wasn’t Indiana. He’d heard from someone that they had nudist beaches on the west coast, but he was still pretty sure that even in California, you couldn’t walk around naked all the time.

                “You jealous? I bet I can talk Tammy into spreading a couple rumors about you. Could help you get out of your slump.”

                Steve knew Ethan meant well, but it didn’t make him want to punch him in the face any less. _I didn’t fall into a slump, jackass. I put my heart through a meat grinder._

                “No, thanks. I’ve got it covered.”

                He ditched Ethan as soon as he got inside. The punch bowl called to him. Once he’d gulped down a cup, he looked around. His eyes caught on Billy. He’d jammed himself into a corner, shoulders curved into the walls on either side. Steve watched him fumble with a beer. Foam exploded out of the can and soaked the front of his, for once buttoned, shirt. Billy put the can to his lips and sucked the liquid off the top before tipping his head back as if to guzzle the whole thing. Instead he kept the beer can low and his head tilted back.

                Steve cringed.

                Billy Hargrove was _gargling_ with beer. Disgusting, cheap beer. Not that it would be okay if he was doing it with a bottle of something more expensive that tasted halfway decent. He forced himself to look away. Of late, he’d made a habit of getting involved in all kinds of things that technically were not his problem. This wasn’t going to become another one of those things. If Billy wanted to take up bizarre drinking or hygiene habits that wasn’t any of his business.

                He went over to Lori, a junior. She had a head full of blond curly hair and enormous green eyes. That was about as much as he knew about her. “Hey, wanna dance?”

                The pack of girls surrounding her giggled. _Shit._ He was about to get turned down for the first time since walking through the front doors of Hawkins High. Lori thrust her bottle of beer into the nearest girl’s hand. “Okay.”

                When she took his hand and pulled him out onto the dance floor, he remembered something else about Lori. She was on the dance team. Which was actually kind of great, because there was no way he could compete with that so he could skip right ahead to making a complete ass of himself. He’d been Tony from _Saturday Night Fever_ the Halloween before he started dating Nancy and he’d spent way too much time learning the dance moves to never use them again. He swung his arms up and down and thrust his hips from side to side with abandon. When the inspiration struck, he threw out a disco finger. Tina wasn’t playing disco. He didn’t give a shit.  

                Lori matched him move for move. There wasn’t a goofy move that she couldn’t make goofier. And she made it look good. The crowd faded into a blur around him until he didn’t see anything except the way her curls obscured her face when she swung her head from side to side. Lip gloss trapped stray hairs against her face. The alcohol rushed through him turning everything warm and fuzzy. He ran out of steam long before she did, but she didn’t seem to mind. She locked her arms around his neck, so he locked his low around her waist. They swayed together as he tried to catch his breath.  

                “You know, no one ever asks me to dance.”

                “Oh yeah?”

                “Yeah. Guess they’re scared.”

                Steve laughed. He felt flushed. It was either the punch or the adorable smug look Lori had on her face. “They should be. You’re a really good dancer.”

                “You’re not so bad yourself.”

                “You’re a good liar.”

                She slid one of her hands down to his shoulder and shoved him. It didn’t make much impact when she had her other hand wrapped around the back of his neck. “Am not.”

                Steve drowned himself in the green depths of her eyes.

                 “I’ll get us some punch.” Lori twisted out of his grasp with a smile.

                He nodded and looked around, dazed. People packed every corner of the room. He glanced at his watch. An hour to midnight. In half an hour or so people would start moving into the other room to catch a glimpse of Dick Clark on the tiny television. He was pretty sure that not a single person in all of Hawkins had ever been to New York, but they’d watch anyway.

                A ripple went through the crowd. It didn’t take long to find its source, because it leapt up onto a coffee table. Billy swayed on top of it, a can of beer in hand. Then tipped all the way forward and somehow caught himself before falling flat on his face. He barreled through the crowd and yanked the front door open. It slammed shut behind him.  

                “Here.” Lori held a cup of punch out to him.

                “Thanks.”

                “You know.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “I told him I’d let him kiss me at midnight. But I’ve changed my mind.”

                Steve gulped a mouthful of red liquid that burned his throat on its way down. He did not want to kiss Lori at midnight. It wasn’t Nancy. He didn’t want to kiss her either. He didn’t know what he wanted. He only knew that he didn’t want to be at Tina’s house watching Dick Clark with a bunch of people he’d been around his entire life. He wanted to go home.

                “I’ve got to go.”

                “Thanks for the update.” Lori pointed with her cup. “Bathroom’s that way. Might be a bit of a wait though. Someone’s puking.”

                “No, I mean I need to go home. I’m really sorry. I just- I have to go.”

                He didn’t wait for her to respond before weaving his way through the crowd. He abandoned the cup in his hand on the first available surface. The crisp cold air embraced him the moment he stepped out. Ethan wouldn’t be leaving for ages, but he hadn’t locked the car. He’d get his jacket from the backseat and walk home. The gate was closed. It would be fine. He went down the porch steps.

                “You’ve got shitty manners.”

                He turned around even though he’d recognize that voice anywhere. Billy leaned on the porch railing with a cigarette in hand. The can of beer was on the porch next to him. The same can of beer he’d spilled all over his shirt. It wasn’t a rational conclusion, because nothing distinguished this can from any other. Steve didn’t know how he knew it. He just knew. Billy wasn’t drunk. He probably wasn’t even buzzed. He’d been putting on a show the whole time.

                “Well, Cinderella? Don’t you know it’s rude to ditch your date before the clock strikes midnight?”

                “She’s not my date.”

                “I know.” Billy put the cigarette to his lips. “She’s mine.”

                “Look, I wasn't trying to start anything.” Steve raised his hands. “I swear I had no idea.”

                “Relax, Harrington. I was talking about me.” He breathed out a billow of smoke. “I invited you. Pretty sure that makes you my date.”

                “You can’t bring two dates to the same party.” Billy might not be buzzed, but he was definitely well on his way there, because that was not the right response. 

                “Says who?”

                “I don’t know. Society? I’m going home.” The wind whipped into him through his polo. He needed to get his coat on before he froze to death. He turned around and went down the icy driveway towards Ethan’s car.

                Billy followed him with stone cold sober coordination. “Don’t be such a prude. Haven’t you ever heard of a threesome?”

                Of course, he’d heard of threesomes. He’d heard enough about them to know that they were not supposed to involve two guys. He took his jacket out of Ethan’s unlocked car and pulled it on. A full body shiver raced through him.

                “Hargrove, shut up. It’s your turn to give me a ride.” He fully expected Billy to tell him to fuck off or claim he was too drunk to do it. Which would be a great way to put an end to what was turning out to be a very weird conversation.

                Billy grinned and did that _thing._ The unnerving thing where he ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth like a starving lion getting ready to settle in for a meal. It was bizarre. It made him look unhinged. And there was something undeniably _sexual_ about it. He pulled open the passenger side door of his Camaro. “Harrington, I’d give you a ride any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kudos and comments. Always love hearing from you!


	13. Chapter 13

               Steve was not his type. Anonymous was his type. Preferably someone with an eager appreciation for the hours he put into lifting weights and a complete disinterest in so much as his name. Anonymous was easy to control. Anonymous didn’t know where you lived or how to ruin your entire life with a single word. Anonymous was safe. Steve was not worth it. He repeated that to himself over and over. A couple seconds of their bodies pressed together and their lips meeting was not worth burning down his entire fucking life again. No one was worth that. No matter the gnawing sensation at his core that could only be described as all-consuming desire. Steve was forbidden and untouchable. A completely out of his reach, gorgeous, terrible idea. It was the kind of ridiculous, irrational, overly dramatic shit that would do any English teacher proud.

               He figured out that Steve wasn’t giving him directions to his house after a couple turns. It didn’t make a difference to him though. If he wasn’t driving Steve around, he’d be driving around alone. The party got played out the moment Tommy clapped him on the shoulder and asked if he planned to let Steve get away with putting the moves on his date right in front of him. He’d forgotten that he’d asked Lori out when he ran into her buying detergent at Bradley’s Big Buy a couple days ago. High school rules dictated that he either punch Steve in the face and make a scene or storm out as if he was too cool to be at the party anyway. He _was_ too cool to be at that party.

               “Didn’t your parents ever teach you to never get in a car with a drunk driver?”

               Steve rolled down the window. “You’re not drunk.”

              No one had ever called him out for faking it. Until now. Getting away with outrageous shit was half the fun of being wasted. The problem being that once he got wasted enough, he lost control of the kinds of things he tried the get away with. Besides, his dad and Susan would be back from the party they’d been invited to at around two in the morning. That wasn’t enough time to sober up and get home. One night, facing a similar dilemma he’d pretended to get drunk. As it turned out, he was a decent actor. No one caught on and he’d figured out that being pretend wasted could be twice the fun of actually being wasted. He could remember everything he’d gotten away with instead of piecing it back together from a combination of blurry memory snippets and next day's gossip. It didn’t hurt that being pretend wasted didn’t leave him with the monstrous hangover of a night of blackout drinking.

               Gravel crunched under the tires when he parked at the quarry and flicked off the headlights. All roads led to the quarry in this damn town. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see moonlight bleeding over the tarpit blackness of the water. Clammy air crept its way into the car through the open window.

              “What's with you locals and this place?”

              “It’s peaceful at night. I like it here.”

              “I hate this place.”

              “Does it make you miss the ocean?”

              He glanced over at Steve, startled to find him watching him. It was such an odd thing to ask. The quarry was barely a glorified puddle. It didn’t remind him of the ocean any more than a glass of water did. But the question implied Steve spent time thinking about his life before he’d moved to Indiana. That he’d dedicated at least a couple seconds to guessing how Billy felt about being in Hawkins.

              “No. I hate it, because it’s creepy as fuck. A kid _drowned_ here.”

              “They found him though.”

              “I mean the other kid, dumbass. The one they actually buried.”

              “Oh…Yeah.” Steve looked away, out towards the water. “I guess I never thought about that.”

              Billy flexed his hands against the steering wheel. The kid had to have been from out of town, otherwise someone would have noticed him missing by now. Which meant someone had driven him way the hell out to Hawkins. Maybe they’d kicked him out of a car on the side of the road and he’d stumbled around, cold and scared, before falling into the quarry by accident. But that didn’t seem likely. A kid that age knew better than to run around in the dark without caution. He would’ve waited by the road for them to come back for him or for someone else to drive along and find him. More likely someone had taken him out here and made sure that he drowned. And no one in this charming little town gave a shit. Everyone just kept on minding their own business.

               “This is a strange town.”

               “Don’t kid yourself, Harrington. It’s no different than hundreds of other shitholes.”

               “Yeah, maybe.”

               He pulled the last cigarette out of his pack. He was smoking too much. If he didn’t cut back soon it would mess with his workouts. The flame from his lighter burned his eyes and for a couple seconds he couldn’t see his own hands. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that night.”

               “I thought we agreed to never talk about it.”

               “I shouldn’t have lost it like that.” It came out as barely a whisper and almost ripped his throat to shreds.

               “Can I bum a smoke off you?”

               Billy pulled the pack out of his pocket before remembering it was empty. He hesitated then offered up the one he'd lit a moment ago. Steve took it, fingers brushing against his. It sent a current of something dangerous down his arm and up his spine. He risked a sideways glance to watch him bring it to his lips. Sometimes he saw Steve with a cigarette behind his ear, but he’d never actually seen him smoke. The cigarette looked at home between his long fingers.

               “I get why you shoved me.” Steve blew smoke out the window. “If I had a sister and I found you outside that house lying to me about her being in it, I would’ve done the same thing.”

               “She’s not my sister.”

               Steve turned to look at him, something sharp and furious in his eyes. “I get why you went after me. What I don’t get is what you were doing going after Lucas. You _hurt_ a kid. You would’ve hurt him worse if I hadn’t stopped you. And that’s fucking unacceptable. So, if that’s supposed to be an apology then you’re offering it up to the wrong person.”

               He chewed on his nail wishing he hadn’t given up the cigarette. His father insisted that he never learned. And up until that night Billy had been pretty sure that he was right. But thinking back to the way Sinclair’s feet dangled in the air, he’d realized that he’d learned quite a bit. _Unacceptable._ When it was your own kid, they called it _discipline_. He could try to explain what would happen if his dad ever found out about Max spending time with Sinclair. But it would be an excuse where there was no excuse.

              “This isn’t a Christmas special, Harrington. Apologizing isn’t going to change anything.”

              “You don’t know the first thing about Lucas or any of those kids. How the hell would you know what it would or wouldn’t do?”

              Saying sorry was just admitting that you deserved whatever you had coming. Being on the receiving end of an apology never made a dent in his rage. It only filled him with a boiling resentment. As if a couple words could make everything okay. “So, what? You think if I apologize, we’re all gonna be best friends?”

              “I think you’re missing the point of an apology.” Steve tossed the cigarette out the window. “Take me home. I live off Euclid. It's the house with the pool.”

              Billy started the car and drove back towards town. The tension and darkness followed them from the quarry, quivering against them in the wind whipping in through the open window. He turned on the music and let Ted Nugent roar at them through the speakers.

_He rolls down the window and surfs his hand over the warm rushing air._

_“You’re gonna mess up my hair.”_

_Billy grins and keeps the window open. Nate is always worrying about his hair even though it looks even better after the salty air gets into it. They haven’t invented the hair product that can give it the same messy look._

_“Asshole.” Nate actually sounds pissed._

_He rolls up the window. He doesn’t want to get into another fight. They’ve been arguing a lot the past couple of weeks. Because apparently Billy can’t do anything right anymore. “What crawled up your ass and died?”_

_“Nothing. Some of us don’t want to look like a bum fresh off the streets.”_

_Also, because he’d walked in on Diane blowing Nate behind the bleachers. Billy gets it because he plays the same game. At school, he’s the jock with a never-ending supply of girls on his arm. At home, he's a polite shadow. And when he can get away from playing both of those roles, he’s with Nate pretending he knows what he’s doing and what he wants. Even though it’s pretty confusing when some nights after a long day of lazing about at the pier, they park on the empty road by the cemetery, and Nate holds his hand for a bit before he guides it into his jeans. They don’t talk about it. Like it’s a normal thing for two guys to be doing._

_Billy parks in the first secluded spot he finds and apologizes with an enthusiastic handjob because he’s shit with words and he’s not even sure why he’s apologizing. He just knows that he has to be the one to do it. By the time Nate is flushed and panting, he’s squirming in his jeans. They’re the tightest pair of pants he owns. He’d put them on that morning in the hopes that they’d end up here and Nate might catch on that he’d very much be into being on the receiving end of whatever it is they’re doing. Just once. Once would be enough. He’s starting to regret that plan though, because as usual, Nate shows no signs of noticing._

_Nate zips up his jeans. “I’m not like you.”_

_“Yeah.” Billy shifts around in his seat trying to ignore the overwhelming urge to take matters into his own hands. Wipes his hand on a greasy napkin that barely gets the job done. “I’ve got better hair.”_

_Nate doesn’t shove him like he usually does. “I like to blow off some steam sometimes. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna suck your dick, you get that, right?”_

_“Never asked you too,” Billy snaps. It’s like Nate can tell that ever since he saw Diane bobbing up and down over his lap he’s been jerking off to the image. Except when he’s imagining it, Nate is in her place and Billy’s the one with his pants around his ankles._

_“This is the last time we’re doing this.”_

_Billy snorts. He’s heard that one before._

_“I’m serious. My dad got a new job in Chicago. We’re moving next week.”_

_His heart skips a beat. Nate’s got an aunt he visits for the holidays out there. “Are you fucking serious?”_

_“Promise me something.”_

_He eyes Nate wearily._

_“You’ve got a decent ass, Billy. Promise me you’re gonna stop looking at other guys the way you're looking at me before you get the shit kicked out of it.”_

              Billy pulled into the Harrington’s driveway. The house loomed over the whole street, judging anyone daring to come close with rows of dark window eyes. Even the woods didn’t dare to press up against its contemptuous grounds. Steve raked his hair back into place with his fingers. He looked away before Steve could catch him watching.

              “Thanks for the ride.”

              “Don’t sweat it.”

              Steve got out of the car. Billy waited until he got inside and watched the lights flick on and off in the windows marking his passage through the house.

               ***

               Billy figured it would be ages before he saw Lucas Sinclair again. It was like the kid planned his arrivals to make sure he either got places well before Max or well after her. Maybe the two of them actually planned it out that way. He did not expect to bump into him on the first day of school. He didn’t have a first period, so he was sitting in the parking lot of Hawkins Middle School and killing time by organizing his tapes. He was in desperate need of new music, but the local store didn’t have anything worth spending money on.

               Sinclair walked past his car, head down, staring into his backpack.

               _Fuck it. What’s the worst that can happen?_

               “Sinclair!” He shouted it out of his window and hurried out of the Camaro to catch up with him.

               The kid turned around, one hand buried in his backpack. He looked around the empty parking lot then glanced towards the school as if to calculate the odds of making it into the building before Billy caught up with him.

               “We need to talk.”

               “I’m not gonna stop seeing Max.” He squared his shoulders. “You can’t stop me.”

               That was touching if completely inaccurate. It wouldn’t take more than making sure that his dad was in the right place at the right time to put a permanent end to this budding romance. He wasn’t going to be the one to make it happen though and not only because he knew that the whole thing would end with him taking the blame.

               “It’s not about Max. It’s about that night.”

               Sinclair crossed his arms. “What about it?”

               _You’ve said it before with a hand around your throat so just say it. Say it. Say it! Fucking say it!_

              “I’m sorry.”

               Sinclair blinked. “You’re _sorry?_ ”

               “Yeah.” It was just a word. “So, if you ever need a ride or something give a shout.”

               The things he’d do for a chance to spend more time hanging around a pretty face. He’d die of embarrassment if anyone ever found out. It would be right after he got his ass kicked, because Harrington was definitely straight as an arrow. Come to think of it, that saying didn’t make much sense, arrows came with varying amounts of flexibility.

               Sinclair narrowed his eyes and backed up a couple steps. “Stay the hell away from me.”

              And honestly, that was fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who was hoping for more shall we say, fireworks, I hope you're not too disappointed! You can look forward to a chapter featuring appearances from the kids, basketball practice, and of course a shirtless Billy. Many thanks for all the comments and kudos, I adore hearing from all of you.


	14. Chapter 14

                “Steve!” Dustin launched himself into the passenger side of the car so fast that the baseball cap flew off his head. “Oh my god, Steve! You are _not_ going to believe this!”

                Steve had a hangover. Not from drinking, but from spending a whole day paying attention in class. It had taken _days_ of nagging to get the role of official afternoon carpool driver. Jonathan needed time to work on a photography portfolio. Once he put it together, he could use it to get a decent summer gig. Something photography related that could go on his college applications. At first, he claimed that there was plenty of time after school to drive the kids around, go to work, and take photographs. Then he denied that he needed more photos. He had plenty of photos. But eventually, Steve had worn him down, because he was good at that. So here he was, no doubt about to hear another spirited retelling of a science lecture.

                “You dropped your hat.”

                “Forget the hat, Steve. This is _major_.”

                “Major, huh? Let me guess, Mr. Clarke taught you how to make a volcano with baking soda and vinegar and you’re gonna win the science fair with it.” Annoying Dustin with outrageous science related statements was his new favorite pastime.

                “A volcano?” Dustin didn’t switch over to an indoor voice or close the door to keep the heat from escaping. “Do you think we’re five?”

                Mike slid into the backseat and shoved the hat back on Dustin’s head. “Billy apologized.”

                “Son of a bitch, Mike! I was getting to that.”

                And that actually was major news. He hadn’t expected anything to come of his talk with Billy on New Year’s Eve. “Close the door. It’s freezing. Where’s Will?”

                Dustin slammed the door. “He’s getting an extra credit assignment for History. He missed a lot of schoolwork in the fall.”

                “It’s bullshit,” Mike said, with all the righteous fury of a thirteen-year-old. “He shouldn’t have to do extra work. It’s not like he _wanted_ to miss school.”

                “Complete bullshit,” Dustin agreed, automatically. As if they’d had this conversation a couple times before, so he had his response ready. “He offered to give him a _ride or something._ Can you believe it?”

                “After everything we’ve been through, you’re asking me if I can believe that someone with a car offered to give someone a ride?”

                Steve didn’t want to get into the details of why he could believe all of it. Helping Billy get his car running at the quarry was one thing. He could justify that. He was a decent human being. Max needed someone to take her home. Either excuse would work. Letting Billy into the Byers house didn’t need an explanation, because Billy had been there to pick up Max. But if Dustin ever found out that he’d gotten tipsy at a party and asked Billy Hargrove to drive him around town and talked about _that_ night with him, he’d definitely get in trouble for it.

                “He thinks Lucas is stupid enough to get in a car with him,” Mike said. “It’s obviously a trick.”

                Yep, a lot of trouble.  

                “What’s a trick?” Will clambered in. “Sorry to make you guys wait.”

                 “Don’t sweat it.” The phrase slipped out before he could stop it. _Get a grip. You’re borrowing phrases from him now. They’re going to figure out you’ve lost your mind._

                “Billy’s apology,” Dustin explained. “It’s mental. He’s _mental._ ”

                Will shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe he really is sorry. Sometimes people do stupid stuff and apologize, right?”

                “Stupid stuff?” Dustin almost crawled into the backseat. “You weren’t there. He tried to _kill_ Lucas and Steve.”

                Mike shoved him back. “You raised a baby _demogorgon_ after we told you it came from the Upside Down.”

                “Oh my god, Mike. I’ve apologized like a thousand times for that.”

                “Exactly,” Mike said, as if he hadn’t been in complete agreement with Dustin a couple seconds ago. “You apologized.”

                “Put on your seatbelts.” Steve knew better than to try and get in the middle of one of their arguments. That never ended well. “I’ve got basketball practice. So, if we could get this show on the road sometime this year, that’d be great.”

                When they’d all buckled up, Steve set off for Mike’s house. The three of them had somehow talked their parents into letting them work on their homework together. After a whole two minutes of silence, Steve reached over to turn on the radio. Which was a mistake, because he’d barely moved his hand off the wheel before Dustin turned to stare at him.

                “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything? This is major news. You’re part of The Party now. You have to vote.”

                “He’s not in The Party, Dustin,” Mike said. “We’ve talked about this.”

                Which was fine. Not like he wanted to be a member anyway. He’d only dropped down into a tunnel full of monsters for all of them. No big deal.

                “Don’t piss him off. He’s got a bat in the trunk,” Dustin said sagely. “He’s an honorary member at least.”

                It was true. He never left his house without that bat. Also, he’d put a crowbar he found in the garage under his bed. His father wasn’t going to go looking for it any time soon. In other words, everything was normal and he was fine.

                “Honorary members don’t vote,” Mike insisted.

                “Okay, _fine_. He can’t vote.” Dustin pulled a sandwich out of his backpack and bit into it as if he might die of starvation before they reached their destination. “But Billy kicked his ass. He gets a say.”

                “Thanks.” Steve loved nothing more than when Dustin reminded him about that.

                “Do you think it’s a trick?” Will asked.

                The sight of his sincere expression in the rearview mirror made Steve sweaty. Giving Dustin hair tips was one thing. Giving Will Byers advice about Billy Hargrove’s trustworthiness was a whole other level of responsibility. All three of them were staring at him now. Even Mike who’d never quite warmed up to him. Steve suspected that might be related to the night he’d caught him sneaking into Nancy’s bedroom. That kid had a long memory.

                “I think… I don’t know.”

                Dustin lowered his sandwich. “You don’t know?”

_As if that’s anything new._

                “I think all of you should be careful around him and I don’t think Lucas should be accepting any rides from him. But I also think that sometimes, if you give them a chance, people can surprise you.”

                “I guess you’ve got a point.” Mike leaned forward to stick his head between the front seats and smiled extra wide. “It was a big surprise for all of us when it turned out you’re not a complete douchebag.”

                God help him, he adored every single one of those little monsters.           

***

                After all the talk about an apology, Steve figured basketball practice might not be so bad. That theory lasted right up until Billy elbowed him in the gut even though there was no way Ethan was about to pass to him, because as Coach Bell pointed out a moment later by yelling at him, he’d posted up in the middle of nowhere. Steve wiped the sweat dripping into his eyes. Billy smirked at him from the other end of the court. For reasons Steve didn’t understand, he always ended up playing skins. Which gave him an unfair advantage. He couldn’t be the only one distracted by the display of muscles rippling under an endless expanse of glistening skin.

                He wasn’t distracted the way he’d been the last time they’d faced off on the court though. There was no getting around it this time. Billy was good. A lot better than him. He did his best work showing off, charging down the court, or making a jump shot. He fumbled a lot of the team plays though. As if he’d learned most of his moves playing one on one pickup games. Steve took advantage of that. He’d been playing with Scott, Ethan and the rest of the guys forever. They knew each other’s moves.

                The shirts scored a couple points, but not before he got knocked off his feet three times. No matter how much he planted his feet it didn’t change that Billy crashed into him with the force of a hungry demodog. Steve watched Billy moving down the court and he could just tell he was getting ready to do something to show off. So, he played a little defense, let his limbs work to his advantage. Could he help it that he had long legs and one of them slipped a bit too far out?

                Billy sprawled to the ground. Steve didn’t go over to offer him a hand up.

                Coach Bell blew his whistle with the force of a lifeguard spotting a drowning child. “We’re done for the day. I’ll see all of you here tomorrow at five. That’s _five_ not five fifteen, Robinson!”

                Steve couldn’t wait to stand under a spray of hot water. If he hurried, he could get one of the showers in the corner so he wouldn’t have to stand next to Billy and listen to him yapping with Tommy.

                “Harrington! Hargrove! Get back here. I’m not done with the two of you.”

                He groaned and jogged back over to the sideline where Coach Bell had his hands on his hips. Billy was already next to him, wiping a scrape on his chin with the back of his hand. A bit of guilt that he refused to acknowledge crawled into his gut.

                Coach Bell glanced towards the door to the locker room “Harris! I can smell you from here. Go shower.”

                Tommy slammed the locker room door behind him. Coach Bell turned back on them. “I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you. Maybe it’s about a date to the prom. Maybe it’s about who got the last chocolate pudding at snack time. I don’t know. And I don’t care. Whatever it is, from now on you leave it in the locker room. Because if I _ever_ see either one of you pulling shit like that on my court again, I’m gonna bench both your asses until they turn flat. I don’t care if I have to recruit mathletes to replace the two of you. Do I make myself clear?”

                Steve rolled his eyes.

                Coach Bell raised a threatening finger at them. “Do I make myself _clear_?”

                Steve opened his mouth to say that for all he cared Coach could kick him off the team today, except Billy beat him to it.

                “Yes, sir.”

                So, Steve shut his mouth and nodded. Because if ever there’d been a sign that he had to take a hard look at his choices it was that he’d been about to mouth off when Billy Hargrove decided not to.

                “Good. I want to see both of you out here tomorrow playing like you’re on the same team.”

                Billy nodded and slunk off towards the locker room without another word. Steve followed him, stunned. The rest of the team had disappeared into to the showers. It was just the two of them. Billy yanked his locker open and pulled out his towel and a bar of soap with a surly expression. It made him look younger, like an actual teenager instead of a full-grown asshole.

                The room felt tense, but not in the usual electric calm before a storm sort of way. It felt shitty. Steve went past Billy even though he’d switched to using a locker all the way on the other end of the room. He slapped him on the back, hand meeting sweaty skin. “Where’s my pudding cup, Hargrove? I wanna give it to your prom date. Or should I say _my_ prom date.”

                “Fuck off.” Billy shouldered past him. “Not everything’s a joke.”

                They were officially in the Upside Down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3's to everyone reading, leaving kudos and commenting.


	15. Chapter 15

                Billy didn’t even like basketball that much. He’d wanted to learn to surf, but surfing classes cost money and being on the school basketball team didn’t so he made do with it. It wasn’t the worst excuse to run around without a shirt and show off. It gave him something to talk about with his dad who never missed watching an NBA game if he could help it. Sometimes he even came to his games. He never embarrassed him by yelling from the bleachers like some of the other dads or coming up to talk to him after the game when the other guys on the team were around. If he showed up to watch him play, he always took Billy to a diner after and let him order whatever he wanted. For an hour or so they’d talk about his plays or some game they’d watched together. When he had a bad day and played like shit his dad was never a dick about it like he was about everything else.

                He could not get benched. He _needed_ basketball.

                Basketball was the only thing he had going for him in this town. There was nothing else to fill the afternoons with on school nights. It was the last place where, if he played his hand right, everything fell under his control. In California, he’d been decent. In Hawkins, he was a god. Apparently, even that wasn’t enough in this stupid town. 

                He slapped one of the showers on, closed his eyes, and stood under the spray of boiling water. At home there was never enough hot water to go around for a long shower, so he took his time enjoying them after practice. The rest of the team wandered out of the showers only a couple minutes later, joking around and arguing. For once, he had the place almost to himself. He could hear Steve puttering about somewhere behind him.

_Why can’t you play nice, Billy?_

                His mom asked him that every time she got a call from parents complaining about their kids giving him their toys. As if it was some great mystery where he’d learned that the easiest way to get whatever you wanted from someone was to scare them enough that they denied they’d ever wanted to say no.

                He lathered himself up with the cheap soap Susan bought for him. It smelled industrial and dried out his skin more than the cold weather. By the time he finished up, the rest of the team had left. He wrapped a towel around his waist and wandered out to get changed.

                “He’s not gonna bench you.” Steve already had his jeans on. “You know that, right? He’s got this whole fantasy about being the tough mentor from a movie that everyone secretly loves.”

                That cheered him up a little. Not that he believed a word of it. He’d been on the receiving end of the whole tough love routine from plenty of coaches and teachers. Eventually they all learned better and turned plain tough. But Steve never came up to talk to him unprompted, so that was something. Billy watched the wet strands of Steve’s hair flop around and land on his face as he shrugged his way into a sweater.

                “Whatever.” He wasn’t about to hand over the ammunition of caring about a dumb high school basketball team. “I’d quit if there was anything else to do in this backwater.”

                “What’d you used to do in California that was so much better?”

                _Swim in the ocean, drive around with the windows open, walk around at the pier, get blowjobs from guys who played beach volleyball. Okay. One guy. And fine, one blowjob. One very memorable blowjob._ He’d replayed it in his head so many times that it basically counted as more than one.

“Swim.” It was the most innocuous thing on his list. Then as an afterthought and to balance out his reputation a little. “Drugs.”

                Steve took a seat to pull on his sock and shoes. “You can do both of those here.”

                “Oh, yeah?” He turned his back to him and whipped off his towel. Let himself imagine Steve might sneak a peek if his ass happened to conveniently be on display closer to his eye level. “You got a secret stash?”

                “No. I’m not the guy to ask.”

                “And who is the guy to ask?” Not that he actually planned on picking up a drug habit. Sure, he’d smoked a joint here and there. Even took a mystery pill at a club once. But he wasn’t about to start down that path in a town where once he got started there’d be nothing to stop him from going until he dropped dead. He pulled on his briefs.

                “You like swimming?”

                He took his time slipping into his jeans. It wasn’t an easy task to wrangle himself into them with damp skin. “I’d kill for a dip in the ocean.”

                “We’ve got pools.”

                “Can’t you read?” He turned around and thrust his pelvis out to buckle his belt. “Community pool closed. See you next summer.”

                The sign on the gate to the place actually said that. He’d read it over and over on his second day in town. It made no sense. They’d built an _outdoor_ pool. In Indiana. When it did open there’d be no way to do proper laps in it because it would no doubt be filled with screaming kids splashing around.

                “I’ve got a pool.” Harrington was straddling the bench a couple of feet away from him, coat in his hands.

                “There’s _snow_ on the ground.”

                Steve shrugged. “My parents heat it all winter. It’s less work than closing it.”

                Billy focused on buttoning his shirt when what he really wanted to do was gape at him open mouthed. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend having so much money that you heated a pool through an Indiana winter out of sheer laziness. Harrington didn’t even sound apologetic or embarrassed about it. He ended up buttoning his shirt up almost all the way, because he needed the time to regain his composure.

                “So, you do know how to finish getting dressed.”

                “Disappointed?”

                “Yeah.” Steve rolled his eyes and stood up. “Lucky for me, I’ve got a whole memory bank full of you sweating your ass off shirtless. Guess I’ll have to make do with that.”

                The guy was so painfully straight that he wasn’t worried about making that kind of joke. It didn’t even cross his mind that Billy could accuse him of being serious. That almost ruined his mood all over again.

                “Come on.” Steve got up and reached into his locker as if they were friends. He took out his stupid ugly coat and shoved it into his chest. “We’d better get out of here before the janitor kicks us out.”

                They walked out of the school together. In an alternate dimension, he’d let Tommy introduce them at that Halloween party, then told him to fuck off. He’d challenged Steve to a drinking game, but not in a douchebag way. In a, let’s get to know each other and rule this place together kind of way. In that dimension he didn’t fantasize about burying his fingers in Steve's hair. In some other universe, he was normal, and they were friends.

                He’d parked closer to the school, so they reached his car first. Billy pulled his keys out and looked up to find Steve lingering. “What?”

                Steve put a hand on the trunk of the Camaro then picked it back up and shoved it in his coat pocket as if he’d thought better of it. “If you want to go for a swim one of these days you can swing by my place. Getting out is a real bitch, but when you’re in the water it’s not too bad.”

                “The nerds told you.” A couple hours ago he’d talked to Sinclair. Naturally, the whole town knew about it by now.

                “They did.”

                “And what? You think that makes us friends?”

                “Hell no.” Steve jammed his hands into bright red mittens. “Figured I’d do you good to get your ass kicked at something for a change.”

                His pulse quickened. “You think you can outswim me?”

                “Oh, I _know_ I can.” He walked away from him then spun around only a couple steps later, mitted hands raised in the air. “These things turn to flippers when I hit the water.”

                “Might take you up on that one day, Harrington.” Billy raked his hair back. “Sounds freaky.”

***

                Billy shoveled an enormous forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. It was amazing. Even Susan couldn’t mess up reheating sauce from a jar. The pasta was overcooked and mushy, just the way he liked it. He planned on getting himself a second helping as soon as he got through the first one. Next to him Max picked at her plate. Nineteen eighty-five was off to a great start.

                Susan pushed Max’s hair behind her shoulder. “How was your first day back?”

                “Fine.”

                He jammed the remainder of his sauce soaked bread into his mouth. Susan never asked about his day, so he didn’t need to worry about speaking any time soon. Next to him, his dad ate at his usual steady pace. Sometimes Billy wondered if he even enjoyed food or if he found eating a nuisance to be tolerated in exchange for staying alive. He glanced at the clock. It was almost story time. That was his favorite part of dinner. Every time they ate dinner together, Susan described to them in excruciating detail doing something completely ordinary and extraordinarily boring. Watching his dad held hostage to a fifteen-minute tale about changing the vacuum cleaner filter rarely failed to cheer him up.

                “You’ll never believe what happened today. I was sweeping underneath the fridge-” 

                “You didn’t take out the garbage.”

                Billy washed the half chewed bread down his throat with a gulp of water. His stomach churned. “No one asked me to.”

                “No one asked you to?” His dad nodded his head a couple of times, as if seriously considering his defense. He wasn’t. He never did. But he enjoyed putting on a show if he had an audience. “You’re not capable of understanding that when the garbage bag is full, it needs to be taken out? You think Susan or I should have to ask you to take out the garbage every time? Is that it?”

                The garbage hadn’t been full the last time he’d thrown something out. He was pretty sure, but there was no way to prove it to himself or anyone else. “No, but-”

                “Don’t interrupt me.” He pointed to the kitchen. “Go take out the garbage. _Now._ ”

                “It’s trash,” Max muttered over her glass of apple juice. “It’s not going anywhere.”

                It took everything in his power to restrain himself from kicking her under the table. This could still be nothing more than a minor annoyance. As long as no one escalated things by pretending logic would be of any use in this discussion.

                Susan put a hand on her arm. “Don’t be rude, honey.”

                Billy pushed away from the table. He hated to agree with Susan on anything, but she had an excellent point there.

                “Clean up your plate while you’re at it.”

                He stared into his half full bowl of spaghetti. “I’m not done.”

                “Do you pay for the food on this table?”

                “You want me to waste food?”

                His father wiped his mouth with a napkin leaving a bright red stain on the white fabric. Susan soaked and scrubbed them in the kitchen sink before laundering them. Then stayed up late in front of the muted television ironing them.

                 “I want to have a word with you.” His father stood up. “Outside.”

                “Neil, let’s just finish our dinner. I bought that raisin cake you like.”

                “This will only take a minute.”

                Billy picked up his plate and stalked into the kitchen, his father on his heels. He scraped the rest of the food into the garbage, which went to show it wasn’t full, because there was room enough in it for half of his dinner, and set the plate in the sink to soak. His father watched him from the doorway to the backyard the whole time, hands twitching on his hips in a way that used to be enough to scare him. That didn’t work anymore, although it never failed to make him think about the sound a belt made yanked free of the loops of a pair of jeans. His father hadn’t put that much effort into a beating since Billy had gotten tall enough to have his face at the right height for him to put some real force behind a slap.

                He yanked the garbage bag out, knotted it, and went outside to throw it into the metal bin he dragged to the curb and back on trash days. He tossed it inside and turned around, impatient to get on with it.

                “Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have a roof over your head? I could’ve tossed you out into the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back. Where would you have gone?”

                Billy stared down at his shoes.

                “Where would you have gone, Billy?”

                “I don’t know.” Even after a lifetime of living with him, he could never figure out what his father wanted to hear in response to his questions.

                “I’ll tell you where you’d go. _Nowhere_. You’d be on the streets, because there’s no one else out there who’d put up with you.”

                His father knocked the metal lid off the garbage can. It hit the ground with a snow muffled clang. He dragged the garbage bag out of it and for several moments Billy contemplated what it would feel like to get bludgeoned with a bag of trash. Instead, his father clawed his fingers into the center of the bag and gutted it. Apple cores, ash, cigarette butts, unidentifiable bits of who knew what, all the unwanted refuse of their daily existence spilled over the payment. And his spaghetti.

                “Clean this up.” He threw a fresh garbage bag on the ground. “Maybe that’ll teach you to be grateful for what you have.”

                Billy waited until his dad got inside and closed the door to punt an apple core into the bushes. He kicked everything about until pavement peered through the beaten down snow and his breath came in sharp ragged breaths. The master bedroom light turned on. They were done with dinner. He picked up the garbage bag and wandered around picking up everything he’d smashed around until the cold replaced adrenaline as the source of trembling in his hands.

                By the time he scooped up everything the master bedroom light was off. He went back into the kitchen rubbing his hands together. Susan leaned against the counter by a drying rack full of dishes. Her eyes lingered over his face. Searching for bruises, cuts, tears? Maybe all of them? He wasn’t sure. He opened the pantry to pull out a fresh garbage bag to line the bin with. When he turned around, she was right in front of him with her hand raised. Billy recoiled on instinct, unsure if he expected a slap from her tiny ineffectual hand or a gentle touch. Either way, he wanted no part of it.

                She flinched away from him and wiped her hands over her apron. “You know, I’ve been so busy unpacking boxes. I can’t believe we still haven’t sorted through all of them.”

                “I’ll help this weekend.” He looked down to find that she’d already put in a fresh bag.  

                “I don’t mean-”

                He shoved the bag back into the box and faced her. She was still wiping her hands over her apron. Over and over again.

                “I was thinking, maybe I’ll make spaghetti again next week. It’s so quick and simple. That won’t be too boring, will it?”

                For some reason, that got to him. More than any of the feeble attempts to be nice to him that she’d ever made. He shrugged and looked away. “I don’t care.”

                “Okay. Good. Spaghetti it is.”

                Billy walked past her to get out of the kitchen. She didn’t sigh or sniffle. Just went back over to the sink and started wiping the dishes dry. He hesitated then turned back around. “You never told us what happened when you were sweeping under the fridge.”

                “Oh. That.” Susan set down the plate in her hands with a soft laugh. “I swept a spider out from under it. It was the oddest looking thing. Never seen one like it. I couldn’t bring myself to kill it. So, I went over to get a piece of paper and a glass to scoop it up and take it outside. But when I came over to it, it ran right into the glass like it knew I wouldn’t hurt it. I brought it out to the porch and the strange little thing ran right off into the woods.”

                “Huh.” Billy had always figured her for more of a scream in the face of a spider encounter type. Although come to think of it, Susan never screamed. She never raised her voice past the level needed to be heard at the back of the house when announcing dinner time.

                “Listen to me. I don’t know how anyone puts up with me and my silly stories.”

                “It’s kind of cool of you to let it out.” Billy cleared his throat. “I hate spiders.”

                He hadn’t meant for that to slip out, but if it kept her from shutting down at dinner and leaving them with nothing but the scrape of forks to listen to, then it was worth it.

                 “Well.” She smiled weakly at him. “If you ever run into any, you know who to call.”

 

***

                Max came into his room without knocking a couple minutes after he turned off his lights. And that was a stupid thing to do, but he supposed that she hadn’t actually grown up with a brother so she’d never learned about the risks of bursting into a bedroom unannounced. Luckily, he happened to be dressed in a pair of sleeping pants and doing nothing more exciting than starting up at the ceiling.

                “What the hell?” He shifted in bed to glare in her direction. A wasted effort in the pitch blackness of the room. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

                The door clicked closed behind her. “You wanted me to _knock_? At this hour?”

                “What do you want?”

                Her shadow crept across the room. “What’s wrong with you?”

                _Shitbird, the sun will be up before we can get through all of that._

“What the hell are you talking about?”

                “The skateboard? Hanging around Steve? Apologizing to Lucas?” She came to a stop a couple feet away from his bed. “I know you’re up to something.”

                “Yeah, you got me.” He kicked off his blankets and sat up. “It’s all part of my master plan to ruin your life. Watch your back. If you’re not careful, I’ll get you to school on time tomorrow.”

                He didn’t need to see to see the pissed off look she gave him, the way she crossed her arms at him. At her age he’d been twice as pissed off, but lacked any ability to focus his anger on a specific target. It burst out of him and sent shrapnel flying in every direction. Hell, he still wasn’t good at directing it. Max wasn’t like that though. She knew how to aim.

                “He hit you, didn’t he?”

                “What?” It took him a moment to process the words. They didn’t talk about this. He didn’t want to talk about this. It was embarrassing enough that Susan knew about it. Sure, he suspected that Max knew about it too. She wasn’t stupid. But he didn’t need it confirmed. “Jesus. No. Go to sleep.”

                “Think he’ll start hitting me too?” she asked, far too conversationally.

                “He won’t.”

                “What makes you so sure?”

                “Because-” _He doesn’t care enough to do it._ His dad cared for Max in the same mechanical way he ate dinner or washed his car. It wasn’t affection or appreciation so much as the grudging acceptance of a series of obligations. Max came as a package with Susan. Through shrewd observation he’d happened to figure out that he could score himself a couple easy points with Susan and the rest of society playing the generous stepdad willing to put up with some other deadbeat’s kid. At the end of the day though, she wasn’t really his problem. The odds were good he’d never waste the effort on her. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if that was better than getting smacked around. “He just won’t.”

                “Did you mean it?”

                He was off balance. The whispering made everything strange. “Did I mean what?”

                “When you apologized.”

                The darkness made it easier to act like a normal human being. It still pushed him to the limits of his abilities not to answer with something sharp and mean. “Yeah.”

                “I don’t know if I believe you.”

                “Great talk.” Billy wrapped the blankets around himself and lay back down suddenly too exhausted to keep sitting up. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

                “I need a poster board to do a group project.”

                Billy groaned and tossed his pillow at her. Always with the fucking group projects. People said heavy metal was the devil’s work. Those people had clearly never been forced to suffer through endless store trips for poster boards in every size and color. “What kind?”

                “The tri-fold one.”

                “I’ll go to Melvald’s tomorrow and get you two of them.”

                “I only need one.”

                “You only need one for the project. You need to other one to fuck it up the first time.”

                “Thanks, asshole.” She hurled the pillow at his head with impressive force. 

                He fluffed the pillow and shoved it back under his head. “Sweet dreams, shitbird. Hope the bedbugs bite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might not be every week, because - life. But have no fear, I've no plans to abandon this fic! As always thanks for the kudos and comments. Hearing from you always makes my day.


	16. Chapter 16

               Steve wasn’t an expert on much, but he did know a lot about bad signs. Flickering lights signaled a monster on its way through a ceiling or a wall. His father sitting at the dining room table in the middle of the night with a glass of whiskey and a newspaper signaled a long conversation about his future, or lack thereof. Getting called into the principal’s office right at the start of homeroom was not a good sign. When they put it in the morning announcements it meant they’d taken the time to gather evidence and plan out the questioning.

               Weak grey light seeped into the room through the open dust coated blinds. A box overflowing with papers sat in the chair next to him. Usually when he was here, Tommy sat in that chair. Steve glanced at it, kind of hoping it would roll its eyes at him. Or at least acknowledge how stupid this was going to be with an annoyed sigh.

               “Mr. Harrington.” Principal Murphy stared him down. “Do you know why I called you in here today?”

               “Uh, no?” He hadn’t tripped anyone in the lunchroom, hadn’t jimmied the lock to the cleaning supplies closet to make out with a girl, and he hadn’t passed a note in class asking for the answer to the fifth question on the geography test. Not that he had ever done any of those specific things. His detention records didn't detail any of that. There was no proof.

               “In front of me I have-” Principal Murphy picked up a paper and scowled at it. She set it down on a stack of file folders at the corner of her desk and riffled through the heap of pages in front of her. “I swear, I was just looking at- Aha!” She stabbed a paper with her finger as if to keep it from escaping back into the sea of documents on her desk. “Your grades.”

               “Oh.”

               “You’re failing all of your classes.” Principal Murphy glanced down. “Excuse me, almost all of your classes. You’re passing Spanish. With a C minus.”

               “Right.” It didn’t sound right. Sure, he’d never turned in that essay about _Macbeth_ before the holiday break. And yeah, he’d lost his math textbook around a month ago. But did failing all of his history tests really matter that much?

               “Do you want to end up in summer school?”

               “No.”

               Principal Murphy gave him a look that told him it was one of those questions he wasn’t supposed to answer, because the answer was obvious. A retortical question.

               “This is your senior year, Mr. Harrington. Colleges will be looking at these grades.”

               As if both of them didn’t know that his grades never would’ve gotten him anywhere without the boost of a hefty donation from his father. “I’m not going to college.”

               “Steve.” Principal Murphy took off her reading glasses. “The greatest misfortune of my professional career is that I notice things. All kinds of things. So, I have to ask, what is going on with you?”

               He liked Principal Murphy. He’d spent a lot of time sitting outside her office waiting for her to come berate him about walking around with a cigarette behind his ear and even more time in her office explaining why he couldn’t wait until the end of math class to ask Tommy if he wanted to come over after practice. They’d kind of bonded over the years. Sadly, even if he hadn’t signed a scary agreement promising to keep his mouth shut, he wouldn’t know how to explain it all.

               “Nothing.” He shrugged and looked away. “My dad’s got a job lined up for me. I don’t need a degree.”

               “College is about more than a degree.”

               “Yeah, well. School’s never really been my thing.” At least that much was true.

               Principal Muprhy sighed. “And is basketball not your thing either? You know the rules. You’ve got to keep a passing average or you can’t stay on the team.”

               He didn’t know about the rules. Someone had probably told him that or maybe he’d signed some form that said it when he’d first joined. It probably hadn’t seemed important at the time. He wasn’t going to be valedictorian, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. He’d never come close to a failing average.

               “How about we make a deal?”

               A deal with the principal was the polite version of do what I say or else. "Okay..."

               “If I hear from your teachers that you’re trying to get back on track, then I’ll see if I can lose this information for a couple weeks and avoid giving Coach Bell a nervous breakdown at the start of this season. How’s that sound?”

               “Yeah.” Steve nodded. “That sounds good.”

               “Here.” Principal Murphy handed over his grades. “I suggest you speak with your teachers today to see where to start.”

               Steve took the paper, mumbled a ‘thank you’, and escaped out of her office. He’d never cared about his grades. Getting scolded by his parents and grounded was a nuisance, but at the end of the day his dad would give him a job at the office or donate some money to get him into some college no matter how much he screwed up. But this was embarrassing. A whole new level of dumb, popular, jock status. Except he was no longer the most popular or athletic guy around. So that left him with dumb. He was officially about to become the guy who flunked out of high school in his senior year. He shoved his grades into his history book and hurried to math class.

 

***

               “Harris! Put on a shirt.”

               Tommy jogged back towards the locker room as the team exploded into a cacophony of whoops and snickering. Coach Bell ignored them and made a note on his clipboard. “Harrington, you’re taking his place.”

               Steve thanked him silently for having the good sense not to yell at him to take his shirt off. Otherwise the whole team would be shouting that at him until he graduated. Or until he flunked out. Probably the latter. He peeled off his shirt and tossed it at the sidelines. Right at the start of practice and in the barely heated gym he did not appreciate the change one bit.

               “Good ol’ King Steve,” Billy slapped him on the back with unnecessary force. “Playing for both teams.”

               “We’re on the same team.” He nudged him back with two fingers right at the center of his chest, one of them landing on the necklace he always wore. It wasn’t until Billy backed up a step that he remembered they’d done this before. Except this time Billy didn’t take a swing at him, just tossed the ball into his chest.

               The real shocker of it though was that they played well together. Perhaps all the time focusing in on Billy in failed attempts at staying upright taught him something about the way he played after all. It amazed him that he’d ever found Billy unpredictable on the court. Playing on the same side, they didn’t need more than a glance between them to communicate. They outmaneuvered everyone with ease. Together, they demolished Tommy. It was great. Probably not great for team morale or pushing anyone to be a better player, but personally great. The high of it gave him a serious reason to reconsider his ‘I don’t care about basketball' stance.

               “Check you out, staying upright the whole game and shit,” Billy said, as they walked back to the lockers.

               Steve swept sweat from his forehead up into his damp hair. “Check yourself out. Didn’t know you knew how to pass a ball to someone else.”

               “I’m full of surprises.”

Unsurprisingly, they showered in the same places they always did. Tommy across from him. Billy to his right. The force of habit a far stronger bond than everything tearing them apart. Steve closed his eyes and tilted his face up into the spray of warm water. He found his bottle of shampoo in the little metal shower rack by memory alone and squeezed a dollop into the palm of his hand. It smelled of something he couldn’t identify. The label on the front didn’t offer up any clues. It said for men in big bold font. As if that should be enough information for anyone buying it.

               “Give me that,” Billy ordered in the tone of an elementary school bully demanding lunch money.

               He held the shampoo out to him without bothering to open up his eyes. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t about to get into a thing over generic shampoo. They had a whole shelf of the stuff in the basement closet. His father used it. Steve used his allowance to keep himself stocked in Faberge Organics. If he ran out, he sometimes borrowed some from his mom. Billy’s fingers slipped on the soapy plastic surface and brushed over his before recovering and pulling the bottle from his grasp.

               “Careful, Hargrove. Don’t wanna give him the wrong idea. That’s the most action he’s gotten in months.”

               Steve could see the pleased smirk on Tommy’s face and the lazy grin Billy threw back at him without opening his eyes.

               “You think you’re so fucking funny.”

               Billy didn’t sound at all amused, so Steve opened his eyes. Tommy recovered from his shock quickly. Put his hands up in mock surrender. “Chill, man. I’m kidding around. You’re touchier than Carol when it’s that time of the month. You coming to the diner with us?”

               “No.” Billy slapped shampoo into his hair. “I’ve got to pick up my stepsister.”

               Which was a lie. AV club didn’t meet on Wednesdays and he’d seen Billy pick her up after school when he’d picked up Will and Dustin. It wasn’t any of his business though.

               “Sucks.”

               Steve closed his eyes again and tuned them out. He didn’t need to hear the rest of their conversation. He’d had the same conversation with Tommy thousands of times. Except instead of complaining about picking up his stepsister he’d complain about getting grounded for doing something idiotic. When he finished rinsing his hair and opened his eyes, Billy was gone with his shampoo.

               Tommy glanced towards the lockers. “Better lock up our shit before he pawns it all, huh?”

               Anger slammed into him with all the force of Billy charging down the court. It wasn’t that he wanted to defend Billy, because after all he had stolen his shampoo and beat in his face. And even if he hadn’t, it wasn’t as if the guy needed any help defending himself. But he _knew_ that it wasn’t about the shampoo. And it wasn't about the fight, because Tommy didn’t know about that. It was about money. Tommy reminding him they were bonded by it.

               “Friend of the year right here. Were you talking trash behind my back my whole life too?”

               Tommy looked genuinely confused. “What’s your problem?”

               “If you’re gonna treat him like shit at least do it to his face.”

               “I can’t believe you.” Tommy glanced towards the lockers again. “You’re _friends_ with him now?”

               “We’re not friends.” Steve toweled off his hair with enough force that the friction stung his scalp. “And neither are we.”

               He didn’t stick around even though the wide eyed hurt on Tommy’s face made him wish they could go back in time to the Fair Mart parking lot. Back to the day when a lifetime of friendship cracked under the weight of a couple angry words and crumbled when neither one of them bothered to patch it with an apology.

               The shampoo was in his locker. Rinsed clean of suds and wiped dry.

***

               The little room in the library was his favorite place to study. It was why he’d know that once he shut the blinds and closed the door no one would hear Nancy’s outburst. There weren’t any distractions in that room. People rarely used it because it got stuffy and didn’t have any natural light, so he thought nothing of barreling right into it.

               Billy looked up, the chewed-on end of a pen resting against his bottom lip.

               “Sorry.” He backed out of the room.

               “You can sit here if want.” Billy pointed to the other seat. “I don’t mind.”

               “Oh, uh.” He glanced back out into the rest of the library. Rows of endless distractions sat huddled over notebooks as far as the eye could see. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Thanks.”

               Billy nodded and went back to writing in his notebook. Even from across the room Steve could see he had terrible handwriting. It looked barely legible. He pulled out his history book and notebook. All he had to do was read a chapter and answer a couple questions at the end of it. He could handle that. Tons of random pieces of paper had found their way between the book’s pages so he started out by pulling them out and stacking them on the table. Then he settled in to read the chapter with the soothing scratch of a pen in the background. He got through two out of five questions, he was feeling good.

               “You lied to me.”

               He looked up. “What?”

               Billy slid the piece of paper in his hand over to him. “You’re not flunking Spanish.”

               “Shut up.” He snatched his grades back and hoped he didn’t look as flushed as he felt. All he needed was for this to get out so that the whole school could snicker about it behind his back. Nancy’s disappointed face flashed before his eyes.

               “Seriously though.” Billy leaned back in his chair. “What the fuck, man? They’re gonna kick you off the team. We’ve got a game coming up.”

               _Oh my god, Billy Hargrove is lecturing me about my grades. This is it. I’ve hit rock bottom._

               “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to look through someone’s stuff without asking?”

               “I’m winning that game.” Billy stared him down, daring him to challenge that prediction. “And so help me God, you’re going to help me.”

               “They’re not gonna kick me off the team,” Steve muttered. “I’m on it.”’

               “How can you be failing English?” Billy continued, either not getting or ignoring the hint to drop the subject. “We’re speaking it right now.”

               “Very funny. I skipped a couple essays. Apparently, that’s frowned upon.”

               “Oh, I get it.” Billy leaned further back, hands on the edge of the table until his chair tilted back on its hind legs. “I’ve figured out your problem.”

_Bet you can’t even come close._

               “Yeah?”

               “Yeah.” He swung forward so that the chair slammed back to the floor with a thud. “A complete and total lack of discipline.”

               Steve wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh. It sounded like a joke, but the hint of bitterness at the edges of Billy’s tone gave him pause. He settled for a quirk of the lip. “Like you know anything about discipline.”

               “I don’t need discipline to get good grades.”

               “Good for you.”

               “Wanna know why?”

               He wanted to know and also, he didn’t want to know. He was probably about to find out that Billy was messing around with some chick who did his homework for him. In the end, curiosity got the best of him. “Why?”

               Billy glanced toward the door. “Can you keep a secret?”

               _Like you wouldn’t believe._

               “Sure.”

               He slid in close to him and leaned in to whisper into his ear as if they were kids playing a game of telephone. In those days, the feel of someone’s breath on his ear had been kind of gross.  It was still gross. His gut tightened and his pulse raced from the level of grossness. There were some unresolved issues there that he’d have to think about later.  

               “I’m really fucking smart,” Billy whispered then pulled away from him with a cocky grin. “Don’t tell anyone though. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

               “You’re such an idiot.” His amusement ruined it, made it come out almost fond.

               “Yeah, but next time, say it like you mean it. Otherwise people might get suspicious.” Billy picked up his pen. “Now, give me your fucking essay.”

               “What essay?”

               “Quit messing around. I saw you working on it at lunch.”

               Steve hadn’t even noticed Billy at lunch. Probably because he’d been trying his best to write down something about _MacBeth_ that made sense _._ Reading it had been bad enough. Every time he tried to put down a sentence about it, he came back to the memory of Nancy’s restrained pity when she’d read his college application essay. His ego could not handle Billy demolishing him over it. “You’re a junior. You wouldn’t know anything about it anyway. It’s on _MacBeth_.”

               “It’s Shakespeare, not a porno mag. They don’t ask for your ID before you can open it up.”

               “You’ve read it?”

               “Last year.”

               _Fuck it._ He pulled the essay out of his folder and tossed it over to him. “I’m warning you. It’s terrible.”

               “I bet.”

               “No, I mean it. It’s really bad. Probably the worst thing that’s ever been written.”

               “You can’t claim that if you haven’t read Max’s poetry.”

               It sounded like something Steve should dig into further, but he really didn’t want to. Billy chewed on his pen as he read. He waited for him to crack up laughing or to start marking the page up with vicious slashes. When he couldn’t stand the tension of it any longer, he went back to his history homework. He struggled his way through the last two questions and slammed his book shut on them.

               “Give it back.” Steve reached out for it. “I’ll get a couple points for effort. That’s all I need.”

               “Jesus. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Billy pulled the paper out of his grasp. “It’s not a bad draft.”

               “Draft?”

               “Yeah.” Billy flipped to the second page and put a star by the third paragraph. “You figured out what you’re trying to say right around here. Scrap all that word vomit and start with this part. Talk more about the effects of the supernatural on the plot and characters. The teacher’s going to eat that shit up.”

               In theory, the teachers always talked about writing drafts. He didn’t know anyone who actually wrote essay drafts though. He always handed in the first thing he put together. If he wanted to go above and beyond, he checked the grammar and rewrote the thing neater. He took the paper back from Billy and skimmed over it.

               “I guess I could try that.”

               Billy hummed and put down his gnawed-on pen with a thoughtful expression. “Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got some interesting shit going on behind that pretty boy face?”

               Steve gathered up his books to avoid answering. There was a reason Nancy hadn’t asked him to help her take down Hawkins Lab. He was the guy who won Prom King and went on to have a reliable office job with good benefits. He was easy. He was all surface. How could he fault anyone for not bothering to look past that when most of the time nothing he had going on underneath made any sense?  

*** 

               The terrifying crunch of an apple snapping under the force of Nancy’s bite startled Steve out of thinking about the way a pen looked when it rested against the corner of Billy’s slightly upturned lip. This kind of thing happened to him sometimes. Last time it happened, he’d ended up buying a pair of sunglasses. That and Nancy kept Tom Cruise out of his mind for the most part. This presented a new challenge. He might have to start writing essays and chewing on his pen or something.

               “Show him.”

               He stabbed his spork into the mac and cheese on his tray. “Show me what?”

               “His portfolio.” Nancy elbowed Jonathan. “It’s really good. Show him.”

               Jonathan scowled. “Drop it, Nancy. I told you it’s not ready. Anyway, it’s not like he wants to look at a bunch of photos right now. We’re in the middle of lunch.”

               Steve didn’t know a thing about photography. He hadn’t inherited his mother’s artistic eye. Jonathan was into it though and it wouldn’t be the first time he faked a bit of interest in something for the sake of a friendship. Most of the time, once he gave it a chance, he didn’t have to pretend to be into it. All kinds of stuff could be interesting if you paid attention. He glanced at the envelope on the table. He could snatch it up from the table and look through it without asking. They were good enough friends that Jonathan wouldn’t put up a fight. He figured they weren’t good enough friends for him to be happy about it though.

               He pushed his tray to the side and wiped his hands on a napkin. “I don’t mind.”

               “I’m not happy with it.” Jonathan picked up the envelope and turned it over. “It’s missing something.”

               Nancy sighed dramatically. “Why can’t you trust me when I tell you-”

               “Fine.” Jonathan put the envelope in his hands. “Here.”

               Steve busied himself with the photos to avoid the unhappy looks on their faces. If they got into a fight, he wouldn’t know what to do. Taking Nancy’s side would be weird, like he had another motive. But he couldn’t take Jonathan’s side after everything he’d been through with Nancy. The only other couple he’d been friends with had been Tommy and Carol. With the two of them he’d always been on Tommy’s side. Not that he’d ever been dumb enough to badmouth Carol. The two of them always got back together.

               He slid the photos out of the envelope and flipped through them. They weren’t anything like the last photos he’d seen from Jonathan. Those had been grainy and dark. He’d been kind of impressed with their creepy factor but not the quality. In these Hawkins came to life. The dingy rows of bins at the record store. Cans of soup stacked in neat rows on grocery store shelves. Cars lined up on Main Street. The endlessness of a cornfield blanketed in snow.

               “These are great.”

               “See?” Nancy sounded triumphant. “I _told_ you.”

               “I’m trying to get a job at the _Post,_ Nancy. This isn’t some school project. They’re not gonna hire me because my mom and girlfriend think I took a couple good photos.”

               “Why are you always-”

               “The _Post_?” Steve cut her off.

               “Yeah.” Jonathan shrugged. “They’ve got a paid summer internship. I’m thinking of applying.”

               “Cool.” Steve hadn’t even started thinking about the summer. Most years he did absolutely nothing. This year his dad kept hinting about him starting at the office early to get a feel for the job. He flipped through the photos again and put them back in the envelope. “I think I know what you’re missing.”

               “You _do?_ ”

               Steve kicked Jonathan under the table. “Don’t act so surprised. I read the sports section. That’s what you’re missing.”

               “There’s no local sports over the summer.” Nancy took the bag of potato chips off his tray and ripped it open. 

               When they’d been dating, he’d never noticed that she always had to be right. Or maybe he had noticed. It was just that back then he’d found it cute. “They cover the swimming class graduation ceremonies at the end of the summer and the Fourth of July parade. Point is, it’s a paper. They cover stuff happening. There’s nothing happening in any of these photos. I mean, nothing is moving.”

               “That’s actually a good point. I could…” Jonathan trailed off staring behind him.

               Nancy froze with a potato chip halfway to her mouth. Steve turned around certain there’d be a demogorgon behind him. Mouth wide open, teeth in every direction. Billy Hargrove grinned at him, canines flashing. Close enough. 

               He set a can of chocolate pudding down in front of him. “I think this is yours.”

               “Thanks.” Steve peeled it open as soon as Billy walked away. He shoved his spork into it and spooned a glop of chocolatey goodness into his mouth. Nancy stared at him in outrage. Jonathan looked kind of amused. “Oh yeah. I forgot to mention. We’ve been hanging out.”

               “Hanging out,” Nancy repeated.

               “Well, not hanging out exactly. We studied together.”

               “You _studied_ together?”

               The betrayed look on her face almost made him laugh, because it figured she’d find that worse than if he’d told her they’d been drinking beers together at the quarry. Studying was sacred.

               “Yeah.” He chewed on one of the spork’s prongs, delaying the inevitable. “He’s not that bad.”

               “Steve, he tried to _kill_ you.”

               “Tried is a strong word, Nance. It was a crazy night. Things got out of hand. He apologized to Lucas. He apologized to me. I’m not gonna hold a grudge forever.”

               “Forever? It hasn’t even been three months.” Nancy threw her hands up in the air. “And now you’re just gonna what? Study with him? What next?”

               “We’re getting married,” he deadpanned. “I booked the O’Dell’s barn for the ceremony and everything. My parents insist on fish for the reception, but I’m thinking- hear me out on this- chicken.”

               The snicker from Jonathan filled him with an irrational amount of pride. It didn’t help his situation any though because Nancy’s expression soured from concern into irritation. “Can the two of you be serious for a moment?”

               “I am being serious. This town isn’t that big, Nance. If I held a grudge against everyone who’s ever pissed me off or taken a swing at me, I’d have no one left to talk to. We’re on the same basketball team, we might as well be civil to each other.”

               Nancy turned to Jonathan for back up, but he shrugged. “He’s got a point. Also, he helped Will. There’s a chance he’s not completely evil.”

               “Well.” She scowled and looked over her shoulder at Billy who’d stopped to talk to Scott, hands resting on the lunch table. “I’d keep a close eye on him if I were you.”

               Billy cocked his hip. His ass strained to escape from the confines of his jeans. And that definitely seemed like the kind of situation that someone should keep an eye on. Really, it was all Nancy’s fault for not giving him more specific instructions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. :)


	17. Chapter 17

               To say that their first game did not go well would be an understatement. Billy stood under the spray of scalding water and tried to scrub away the memory of the scoreboard. It played over and over in his head. Passing the ball to Ethan. Trusting him. Coach Bell insisted over and over he had to do that if they ever wanted to win. _It's a team sport, Hargrove._ Watching him charge down the court and maneuver with ease past the defense to dunk. Exactly the way they’d practiced over and over. Seeing him make the perfect shot. Into the wrong basket.

               His dad drove out to see him play in a game they lost, seventy-three to twelve. He wished, not for the first time, that he could figure out a way to drown himself in the tiny puddle gathering in the hair clogged shower drain. Sticky steam flooded through his nose and down his throat. From the racket in the locker room anyone would assume they’d won seventy-three to twelve.

               “You coming to the diner with us?” Scott asked. “We’re gonna eat before we hit the party.”

               “Maybe.” As if there was any reason at all to party after that massacre. “My old man drove out. Gotta check in with him first.”

               “Shit.” Scott cackled. “Bet he wishes he’d stayed at home, huh?” It was the first indication from anyone that they should be pissed off and reevaluating all of their plays instead of gearing up to celebrate.      

               Keeping his dad waiting was never a good idea so he got himself together and out into the parking lot before the rest of the team. If things went south there wouldn’t be too many people around to see it. He hustled across the parking lot, boots skidding on unexpected patches of ice. Fucking salt. Either they dumped it all in an enormous pile that spit corrosive crystals against the sides of his car or they sprinkled just enough to melt some of the snow and let it refreeze into ice. The ground threatened to slip out from under him at any moment.

               His dad loomed in the distance, a lone figure dwarfing the handful of cars with his presence. He was by his pickup truck, feet planted, arms crossed, back straight. _The wall doesn’t need you to prop it up._ Leaning against things was an unforgivable character flaw in his father’s eyes. Would it be better to approach with his head low? A bit embarrassed by their performance. Or with full confidence? Certain they would win the next game. He settled for a middle ground. Hunched his head in a little, it could easily be to protect his neck from the freezing wind, but didn’t slouch too much. Slouching was worse than leaning on things.  

               “Well,” his dad said. “That was something.”

               Billy nodded.

               “The team’s got a way to go, huh?”

               “Yeah. I mean- Yes, sir.”

_Big rebel you are._

               His dad barked a laugh and shook him by the shoulder good-naturedly. “Lighten up, Billy. It’s one game. You did great out there. You’ll get them next time.”

               The praise poured over him with the warmth of a California summer. It was embarrassing and annoying. A lifetime of this bullshit and he still fell for it every single time, even though the voice in the back of his head told him not to. It never lasted. But it was good while it lasted.

               He allowed himself a sheepish grin. “Thanks. We’re playing a home game next week. That should help.”

               “Right.” His dad’s eyes slid off him. “That your girl over there? I saw you talking to her before the game.”

               Billy glanced back at Carol who was talking to Nicole and no doubt waiting for Tommy to emerge so that she could jump into his arms with the kind of enthusiasm that should be reserved for an NBA finals winner.

               “No, she’s with Tommy.” As if his dad knew Tommy. Honestly, that wasn’t too farfetched. Over the years, he’d learned not to underestimate the number of things his dad knew and noticed. “We’re just friends.”

               “I see.”

               He’d been using an anonymous girl as an excuse to stay out late and do anything other than stare up at his ceiling and think about all the things he could be doing if he was home. As long as he wasn’t shirking his babysitting duties, it put his dad in a great mood to see him getting out of the house. He made sure to keep his stories suspicious enough that any idiot could read between the lines and guess that going to the movies and studying was code for messing around in the backseat of his car. It gave his dad a reason to frown and hassle him for a couple minutes while he secretly breathed a silent sigh of relief that Billy was being 'normal'.

               “My girl couldn’t make it. She doesn’t have a car.”

“Billy!” Scott shouted from across the parking lot. “You coming?”

               His dad pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and dug through it for a moment before pinching out a crumpled ten dollar bill. “Go have fun with your friends. Take your girl out to the movies or something.”

               His dad rarely gave him money except for a couple bucks for gas. Once in a while he’d ask him to pick something or other up for Susan at the grocery store and let him keep the change. Billy wanted to blame it on stinginess, but he knew the truth was that he rarely had the cash to spare. Ten bucks would be enough to buy a tape. If he saved it until he had a full tank then he could drive out to Indianapolis and buy something new and halfway tolerable.

               “Thanks.”

               His father didn’t let go of the bill when he went to take it and smiled, teeth on full display. “Bring her by for dinner one of these days. Susan and I would love to meet this girl you’re always rushing off to see.”

               _Shit._

               Billy didn’t break eye contact. “I’ll ask her.”

               “See that you do.” His father let go of the ten.        

               He slipped it into his back pocket and skidded his way back towards the rest of the team. Lies always came back to bite him in the ass. But for now, he had money in his pocket and a party to get to. For now, he was going to have a great night. Scott shoved him up the steps of the school bus they’d arrived in. The familiar stale scent of fake leather and aged sweat welcomed him. He ducked his head and stumbled past the rows of dark green seats.

               “Hey.” Tommy looked up at him from his seat by the window. They’d sat together on the way over to the game. “Can you give Nicole a ride to the party?”

               Billy blew past him without answering. Riding the bus made him nauseous. Listening to Tommy trying and failing to be subtle about pawning Nicole off on him so he could get laid, would make him puke for sure. That would do some serious damage to his reputation. Only little kids lost their lunch because of motion sickness. He made for the back of the bus without a real plan. It wasn’t a big bus. There was nowhere to go. And there were no free seats left in the back. There was one free seat, but it belonged to Harrington. It was some kind of unspoken perk left over from his glory days. The guy picked whatever seat he wanted and got the whole thing to himself.

               Harrington glanced up at him. His knees pressed into the seat in front of him. He dragged his gym bag onto his lap and then tossed it down on his feet. Billy dropped into the empty space. The bus pulled out of the parking lot with an enormous sigh. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The rumble of the road reverberated from the back of his skull down into his neck. Normally, he found it soothing.

               “Your dad came to watch you play?”

               It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to give him shit for it. There came a point when it wasn't normal for your parents to show up at a random game. “Yeah.”

               “That’s cool of him.” Steve sounded genuine. “Most parents don’t bother coming until the end of the season.”

               The last thing he wanted to talk about was his dad. It would only remind him that his perfect excuse for conflict free nights out was about to come to an end. He tried to focus on the darkness and his breathing. It didn’t help. The lack of distraction left him free to focus on the lurch in his stomach every time they hit a pothole. In retrospect, sitting in the back wasn’t the best idea.

               “You okay?”

               “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

               “Here.” Steve elbowed him right under the ribs. “Take these. I think you’ll like this.”

               Billy opened his eyes. It was the dorkiest pair of headphones he’d ever seen. They were enormous. And probably really expensive. They’d survived a drop to the floor along with a Walkman in a gym bag stuffed with sweaty clothes and sneakers. He took them. Desperate times called for desperate measures. “I hope you know that if this is Springsteen, I’m going to hurl right in your lap.”

               “It’s not Springsteen.”

               Billy groaned. It wasn’t possible that a guy who dressed exclusively in polos could have remotely decent taste in music. Shit like that didn’t happen in real life. “It’s Wham!, isn’t it?”

               “Don’t insult me.”

               “Phil Collins?”

               “Not even close.”

               He put the headphones over his head. Steve pressed play with a decisive tap of his finger. Music blared into his ears at an impressive volume. Whatever it was, it was loud and angry in a joyful sort of way and… British. It definitely wasn’t Phil Collins. He had no idea what it was. It was unfair. What had he done to deserve this kind of torture? Before this moment, reminding himself about Steve’s hypothetical, terrible taste in music kept him firmly grounded. They could play basketball together. They could study together. They could offer each other rides in case of emergency. Sure, they might even be able to joke around on special occasions. But they could never be friends. He couldn’t be friends with anyone who had terrible taste in music. That would never work out.

               “What is this?”

               Steve dragged the headphones down to his neck, fingers grazing over his hair. “The Clash.” He said it so casually. As if every guy in Indiana knew about cool overseas bands that he’d never heard or read about. “It’s kind of growing on me.”

               Billy glared at him. “You found this at the record store in town?”

               “No.” Steve grinned. “Will made it for me. It was my Christmas gift.”

               And that was a real relief. This gave him all of the proof he needed to convince anyone that Harrington had terrible taste in music. Why else would he need to take recommendations from little kids? He put the headphones back on and closed his eyes to block out that stupid, smug, grin. His stomach fluttered.

_Fucking potholes._

***

               They were the last off the bus in the school parking lot. So of course, they ended up getting to the diner last. He sat in a booth, trapped between the fogged-up window on his left, Ethan on his right, and Steve across from him. Every once in a while, Steve’s knee knocked into his. It was a tight fit. If he wanted more space then he’d have to crawl out through the window to get it. He was sweating. The diner had cranked up the heat too much.

               “Did you see coach’s face?” Ethan snickered. “I thought he was gonna pass out when you missed that shot.”  

               “Yeah, well at least I didn’t shoot into the _wrong_ basket.” Steve jammed almost half a burger the size of his face into his mouth.

               With mild awe Billy watched him chew and wash it down with a sip of vanilla milkshake. Normally, he was the one to put on that kind of show. Instead, he’d ordered the cheapest burger from the sticky menu and settled for a glass of water. A vanilla milkshake and a burger kept him going for a couple hours. He’d gotten years out of some of his tapes. He wasn’t about to blow half of his unexpected windfall on a mediocre meal.

               “Whatever,” Ethan didn’t sound upset about it. “We’re gonna win the next one.”

               “Did we play in the same game?” Billy cut in. “They killed us out there. And they’re _garbage._ They’re the lowest ranked team in the region.”

               “Not true.” Steve fished the cherry out of his milkshake and popped it into his mouth. He examined the stem before setting it on the edge of his plate. “After today, we’re the lowest ranked team in the region.”

               “Who cares?” Ethan blew the end of a paper wrapper off his straw and into his ear. “It’s not like they let you take a season trophy home and keep it. They stick it in some school cabinet to gather dust.”

               Billy shoved a fry into his mouth to keep himself from screaming. No one in this town gave a damn about anything. Ethan picked up his burger and slid out of the booth. “They’ve got Pac-Man in the back. Highest score gets first pick of the booze. You guys coming?”

               “In a bit.” Steve mumbled through a mouthful of food.

               Billy grunted and nibbled on another fry. The fries sucked. They were cut too thick and mushy, with no trace of crunch. There was too much salt on them. It gave him a weird shitty feeling that it took him a moment to identify _._ He wanted to go home, but that home was gone. And even that home had never been a refuge from much.

               “You sure you’re okay?”

               “These fries are shit.”

               Steve took one off his plate and bit off half of it. He tilted his head then reached the other half across the table and dipped it into the ketchup on his plate, chewed on end first. Billy raised his eyebrows.

               “They’re not great,” Steve agreed. “But they’re not _that_ bad. So, what’s with the face?”

               “I need a date.”

               Steve snorted. “I’m sure you’ll find someone willing to put up with you for the night.”

               Experience taught him that one night was in fact the perfect amount of time to make an impression and stir up the rumor mill. One night could be fun. Any more than that and it started to get risky. But that wasn’t the solution to his current problem. On a whim he went with telling the truth. “I told my old man I’ve got a girlfriend so he’d get off my back about going out and now he wants to meet her.”

               “Ah yes, the fake girlfriend dilemma.” Steve nodded as if he dealt with this exact situation all the time. Maybe he did. “So, what’s the problem? Just bring some girl home. Ask her to cover for you.”

               “Like who?”

               Steve shrugged and took another fry off his plate. “What about Sherri? She never shuts up about you. I bet she’d be into it.”

               “Who?”

               “You hooked up with her at Tina’s party.” Steve dipped the fry into his milkshake, waited for a couple seconds and sighed dramatically when Billy kept staring back at him. “The weekend her cousin Paul came into town?”

               “I thought her name was Christy.”

               “Yeah.” Steve slid the fry into his mouth. “Maybe don’t open with that when you ask her.”

               The waitress came over with the bill before he could retort. She slid it over to him. He did a double take. The total came out to fifteen bucks.

               She smiled, teeth gleaming against her hot pink lipstick. “Your friends said you’d pay?”

               “Uh- yeah. Right.” He looked out the window in time to see Tommy flooring it out of the parking lot. _Fucking prick._ Between the ten from his dad and the single in his wallet it wasn’t enough. Did they make you wash dishes if you couldn’t pay or was that only a thing in the movies? Did they skip ahead to calling the cops in real life? Either way, he was fucked.

               “They meant me.” Steve pulled out his wallet and handed the waitress a twenty. “Keep the change.”

               “Thanks. You take as long as you want to finish up.”

               Billy waited for her to walk away before rounding on him. He might be an asshole, but he wasn’t going to put some poor chick in the middle of this argument. Serving burgers to a bunch of sweaty losers had to be miserable enough. “I’m not a fucking charity case. I can pay for my own meals.”

               “This has nothing to do with you, Billy.” Steve shoved the wallet back in his pocket. “Tommy’s being a petty little bitch and that’s between the two of us.”

               “I could punch him in the face for you.”

               Steve arched an eyebrow.

               He almost smashed his head into his half-eaten burger. It was too soon for jokes like that. It was all Steve's fault. He'd short-circuited his brain by switching over to calling him 'Billy' and Tommy 'a petty little bitch’ all in one go. “I’m kidding. I’m not going to-”

               “I know.”

               “I’ll get change on the way to Tommy’s and pay you back.”

               “Don’t worry about it.” Steve slid out of the booth. “I’m not going to Tommy’s anyway. Screw those douchebags. I’m going home.”

               “Hey.”

               Steve zipped up his coat and fixed his scarf. “Yeah?”

               Going to the movies was overrated. Movies were overrated. Given the choice between watching a movie and sitting around anywhere listening to halfway decent music Billy would always go with the latter. Plus, they overcharged for the snacks. It was a total waste of money. Still, this kind of perfect ironic opportunity didn’t come along every day.

               “You wanna catch a movie instead?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait folks! Thank you everyone for your comments. They blow me away every time.


	18. Chapter 18

               Steve was an idiot. He knew he was an idiot. He had the grades to prove it. But up until the moment he found himself holding a ticket for _Nightmare on Elm Street_ he did not understand the true depths of his own stupidity. Once upon a time, he’d been into horror movies. Horror movies injected a bit of adrenaline into any otherwise boring night. Which was great, but he’d almost drowned in adrenaline for two years in a row and these days the thrill of driving around a bunch of kids on the edge of falling face first into puberty was more than enough to keep him awake.

               It happened to be the next movie playing and he wanted to come up with an excuse to go home the way he’d planned.

               “Hell, yeah!” Billy said it with enthusiasm that bordered on the level of Dustin discovering a forgotten snack in his backpack. “I’ve been dying to see this.”

               And between trying to work out why the pure joy in Billy’s voice made his stomach feel a little weird and watching him swagger up to the ticket booth, he ran out of time to back out. So, out of habit he bought two sodas and a tub of butter-soaked popcorn to share, and told himself it would be fine. Sure, he lived right off Euclid. And if the title was anything to go by a lot of the action would take place on Elm Street. And yes, they did both start with an e. That didn’t mean anything though. It was a coincidence. The same as it was a coincidence that he happened to drive out to apologize in person to Jonathan Byers the same night he and Nancy lured a creature from another dimension into a small, but perfectly ordinary living room. It would be fine. It would be normal.

               Billy went to sit in the back without so much as glancing at him to check if he might prefer to sit somewhere less awkward. Friday night was date night and the place was packed with couples. In and of itself that wasn’t a big deal. He used to go to the movies alone with Tommy all the time. Everyone knew that you sat in the back row when you didn’t want people to see you. It made sense that Billy didn’t want to be seen with him. Ditching a party to watch a movie with him would for sure be a hit to his reputation as King of Hawkins High. He could respect the dedication even as he dreaded sitting through the whole movie pretending that he couldn’t see people getting handsy out of the corner of his eye.

               Billy sprawled out in his seat like he owned the place. “I heard a bed eats someone in this.”

               “A _bed_?” That really was taking things too far. Everyone knew that if you didn’t hang your limbs off the sides and used your covers then the monsters couldn’t get you. What kind of twisted person went out of their way to ruin that?

               “Yeah.” Billy laughed, clearly taking his reaction as disbelief. “I might’ve heard it wrong.”

               “Let’s hope.”

               The girl in front of them sighed dramatically and turned around. “Excuse me, are the two of you going to be loud the _entire_ movie?”

               “Sweetheart.” Billy slid forward with his signature leer. “Don’t sell me short. With me, everyone’s loud the entire  _night_.”

               “Oh my god.” Steve tugged him back. “Don’t mind him. Sorry. We’ll be quiet.”

               “The movie hasn’t started,” Billy pointed out. He didn’t put up a fight though and slouched back into his seat. “What kind of per-”

               Steve shoved a handful of popcorn into his open mouth. Then froze with a buttery hand still in the air and no idea what to do next. There were two types of situations that made it acceptable for one guy to shove food into another guy’s mouth at the movie theater. The first was being around eight or nine years old. The second obviously had to be some kind of unlikely life or death starvation scenario.

               Billy blinked then snorted, popcorn flying out of his mouth. “What the fuck, Harrington?” He brushed popcorn off his shirt and squinted down at himself in the dim lights. “You got _butter_ on my shirt.”

               _Err..._ The lights went all the way dark. “The movie’s starting.” As if that explained it.

               The whole thing started off bad. It started with a nightmare. Which again, how stupid could he be to not see that one coming when nightmare was in the title? There was a Tina in the movie and a Nancy. Of course, there was a Nancy. He reached for more popcorn to chew through his anxiety and practically launched out of his seat when his hand collided with something warm, and not at all crunchy or buttery.

               In the glow of the movie screen he watched Billy calmly pick a single piece of popcorn out of the bag. “Jumpy, aren’t you?”

               Steve put a finger to his lips. He hated when people got mad at him because whoever he went to the movies with wouldn’t shut up. That used to happen all the time with Tommy and Carol. 

               Billy leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Need someone big and strong to hold your hand?”

               The aroma of butter mingled with the lingering hint of the cheap soap Billy used on his hair after practice. Steve didn’t know why anyone bothered to pay more for fancy soap. The cheap stuff smelled great. He nudged Billy away with his elbow.

               He made it through the first murder. Blood everywhere. Screaming. It was the kind of horrific stuff his mind could come up with all on its own and without any cinematic help.

               “I gotta piss.” He shoved the popcorn into Billy’s stomach then almost fell into some couple’s lap trying to get past them and out into the aisle. Embarrassment was little more than a blip on his radar.

               The parking lot was empty of people. The next movie wasn’t starting for a while. He got the pack of cigarettes out of his center console and sat down on the freezing cold trunk of his car. It felt good. This wasn’t the wet chill of the tunnels. It was the kind of sharp cold that made people give a second thought to baring a hand outside for a dose of nicotine. He finished one cigarette and lit up another one immediately.

               “There you are.” Billy walked over to him, adjusting the collar of his coat. “Thought you might’ve fallen in and drowned. Then I remembered you grew up with a pool. So, I figured you ditched me. But here you are. _Smoking._ ” He tsked. “What would the children say?”

               “I needed some air.” He tapped the ash over the side of the car. “All that dream stuff reminds me of-” He shoved the cigarette back in his mouth to keep himself from saying something stupid.

               Billy slid up onto the hood next to him. “Of?”

               “I get vivid nightmares sometimes.” He braced himself for a round of jokes and mockery. It would be fair. The movie was scary, but not ‘I need to go outside because otherwise I might get a heart attack’ scary. And Billy had already made the crack about holding hands.

               But Billy only hummed, deep in his throat and lit a cigarette of his own. “Yeah, I get that. Shit can really fuck with your head.”

               What could possibly give Billy Hargrove nightmares? The guy had the perfect life. Cool car. Great hair. New King of Hawkins High. Amazing at basketball. A dad who cared to come and watch him play. Every girl in sight drooling over him. He almost asked. But that would make it only fair for Billy to ask him the same and he wouldn’t be able to answer. As far as most of the town knew, up until a couple months ago, he’d had the perfect life.

               “You should go back and get your money’s worth. I’m not going back in.”

               “Can I ask you something?”

               Steve nodded.

               “Why’d you come here with me?”

               And that was a good question. They got along now. It was a lot more than anyone would expect after their fight. There was no reason to try and make more out of it. He had enough friends and if he wanted more then he had plenty of other options. Something kept drawing them together though. Maybe the same thing that had drawn him into the orbit of the Upside Down twice. He wasn’t clever enough to figure out how to escape its clutches.

               “Guess I figured you’re better company than Tommy.” Which wasn’t much of a compliment or the truth. He’d already admitted that he hadn’t planned on going to the party. The real answer lived somewhere in between ‘you’re better than no company at all’ and ‘maybe, Jonathan is right and you’re not completely evil’. Either way, Billy didn’t seem to take offense.

               “What’s the story with the two of you?”

               “There is no story.”

               “Bullshit.” Coming out of his mouth it wasn’t a spat-out revelation, but a statement of obvious fact. “I know all that back at the diner was about more than money.”

               People didn’t talk about money in Hawkins. There wasn’t much point to it. Everyone knew who had it and who didn’t and the members of the categories never changed. It made things weird to think about Jonathan nodding off for a second at lunch because he’d worked a closing shift when he used to nod off after staying up too late by his pool. He examined his cigarette filter. “Not sure what you mean.”

               “Don’t go all shy on me now.” Billy smiled wryly. “You think I’m too stupid to figure it out? I live in the shittiest part of town. I’ve lived in the shittiest part of town of every town. I _know_ it’s about the money. It's always about money.”

               Steve sighed. “It’s a long story.”

               “You got something better to do?”

               He didn’t talk about everything that had happened. He couldn’t talk about it. And not only because of all the paperwork from the government. He had nothing to complain about. Nothing bad had happened to him. He hadn’t gotten lost in the Upside Down. A monster hadn’t eaten his best friend or his cat. He had no right to talk about any of it. It wasn’t his story. But Billy didn’t know that or really care. Billy was bored and killing time. They weren’t friends. It didn’t matter what Billy thought about any of it.

               A biting gust of wind tore through the parking lot and Steve turned his head to the side as if that would shield him from the onslaught. When it passed, he slid off the hood.  “If you really want to hear about it then we’d better sit in the car.”

               Billy took a long drag and flicked the rest of his cigarette into the darkness. They got into the car and Steve cranked the heater as high as it would go and waited for the prickles of pain spreading over his thawing hands and face to stop. He didn’t know where to start or where to end. Wasn’t sure if he even knew all the details of the story he was supposed to tell. The wind moaned at them from the outside. It was oddly comforting.

               So, he started with Nancy. Because when he went over it in his head, his life divided itself neatly into the everything before Tommy told him to go for it with Nancy and the everything after. He told him about when they first started dating. Tried to explain Barb, even though there wasn’t much he could say about her. In his memories she existed as a vague blur right outside the edges of his focus. Talked about the party at his house the night she went missing. Went into the details of how Nancy wanted to involve the cops the next day, but he didn’t want her to because his dad might ground him. He’d wanted to drive out to Indianapolis with her that upcoming weekend and he’d been working out a plan to convince her to come. Explained how eventually Nancy became convinced that Barb and Will’s disappearances were linked. Somehow ended up telling him about skipping Will’s funeral and then about sitting in the hospital waiting room next to Ted Wheeler waiting for someone to come out and tell them that Will would be okay.

               And he talked about the dinners. Those horrible fucking dinners sitting across from Barb’s parents. Skipped over dropping Nancy off at home after the last one and puking up half a bucket of chicken on the side of the road a couple blocks from her house. Cut right to the day they announced it on the news about the chemical spill. When he finished, he realized he hadn’t mentioned Tommy at all.

               Billy stayed silent through all of it. 

               “He wasn’t there,” Steve said, trying desperately to somehow tie it all together and slap a conclusion on the ramble of words that had escaped out of him. “The whole world fell the fuck apart and he wasn’t there for any of it.”

               Billy turned to look at him, much too alert for someone who’d asked one question and gotten all that for an answer. “You believe that story?”

               “What do you mean?”

               “Will getting lost in the woods.”

               Which hadn’t even been in his story, but then everyone in town knew that story. “Why wouldn’t I?”

               “Doesn’t make much sense, does it?” Billy pulled his lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on and off a couple times. “He was twelve, right? Grew up here. Probably biked home on that same road hundreds of times. And then one night, for no reason at all, he wandered off into the woods and got himself so lost that no one could find him for a week. It doesn’t make sense.”

               “Not everything makes sense.”

               “It does when you’ve got the whole story.”  

               Which sounded far too much like something Dustin would say. “Can I ask you something?”

               “Shoot.”

               “Do you know how to surf?”

               Billy’s laugh poured out into the space between them. “You think everyone in California surfs?”

               “Not _everyone_.” It was so annoying being treated like a country bumpkin who’d never been out of Indiana. He’d been to other places. His parents took him to Chicago that one time. And he read the paper… sometimes. “But you look like the type.”

               “Oh yeah?” Billy grinned. “And what type is that?”

               “Shut up.” Steve grinned back. “You know what I mean.”

               “I don’t surf. Couldn’t afford the lessons. But I got a couple friends who do.”

               “You miss them?”

               Billy shrugged. “No point in missing anything.”

               “What’s that supposed to mean?”

               “I’m getting the fuck out of here the second I graduate. I’m going back.”

               Steve didn’t point out how much could change in two years. Didn’t point out that his throat was dry from talking about how sometimes when you tried to go back, no matter how hard you tried, you no longer fit. It would be stating the obvious. And anyway, Billy looked… at peace. Which wasn’t a look he’d ever seen him put on. He kind of liked it. So instead, he bobbed his head in agreement. “Cool.”

***

               Steve unzipped his coat before getting out of the car, walking up to the front door, and ringing the doorbell. He slipped one hand in the back pocket of his jeans and leaned against the doorframe so that his coat gaped open, made sure to act casual. As if he really needed to rest his weight against something while he waited.

               Ms. Henderson opened the door with her head turned away. “Dusty! Steve’s here!”

               “Good morning, Ms. Henderson.”

               She caught sight of him, clasped her hands together under her chin, and cooed. “Oh, you’re wearing it! I told Dusty you’d love it. The green really brings out your eyes.”

               Steve flashed his best innocent smile. “Everyone keeps telling me that.”

               “Of course, they do.” She patted his cheek with a bit more force than he anticipated. “Such a handsome boy. Your parents must be very proud.”

               “You’re _ten_ minutes early.” Dustin appeared behind her and mimed gagging. 

               “Don’t forget your gloves,” Steve said, earning himself an adoring look from Ms. Henderson. “It’s cold out.”

               Dustin pulled gloves out of his coat pocket and smacked him in the stomach with them. “So cold your fingers got too numb to zip up your coat?”

               “Dusty.” Ms. Henderson tugged on the earflaps of his hat so that it slid down to cover his entire forehead. “Be polite. And listen to Steve. Did you go to the bathroom? You know what happens to your bladder when it’s cold.”

               “Oh my god, Mom.” Dustin rolled his eyes and trudged towards the car without another word.

               “Thank you for taking him to school this morning, Steve. You’re a dear.”

               “Anytime.”

               Steve swaggered back to the car. He still had it. He’d always been so good at charming parents and convincing them that he was a respectable human being. Even after all the drama with the cops questioning Nancy about the party at his house and Barb’s disappearance the Wheelers had adored him. He turned around right before getting in the car to wave bye to her.  

               “I can’t believe you.” Dustin glared at him. “This is a betrayal.”

               “This is me keeping my promise.”

               Dustin huffed and clicked his seatbelt into place.

               Steve survived his silent treatment all the way to the end of the block. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re actually mad at me. What'd you do over the weekend?”

               “My mom took me to the comic book store on Friday.”

               “Did you get anything?” Dustin gave him crash courses in the cool things all the time. They hadn’t made it to comic books yet. He was ready to be enthusiastically confused. 

                “I saw you in the parking lot. Smoking. With Billy.”

_Shit._

               “Don’t do it. I’m dumb. Seriously. It’s really bad for you. And I don’t do it that often. I’m going to stop.”

               “Hanging out with Billy or smoking?”

               “Smoking.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. One day the two of them were going to have their first real fight. It was inevitable, but he really didn’t want it to be about this. “I know how this is going to sound, but Billy’s… not terrible.”

               “Are you reverting to your primordial state?”

               “Umm… Maybe? What’s a prime-ordeal?” It sounded like an expensive steak, but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t.

               “Are you going to go back to being a huge jerk who smokes and drinks and hangs out with Billy Hargrove and then forgets all about us and stops hanging out with me?”

               It took everything in his powers to keep it to himself that statistically speaking, Dustin and the rest of his friends were about to become huge jerks who did all of those things and stopped hanging out with him. How much longer could the kids want the ex-boyfriend of an older sister hanging around? It was weird and very uncool. He was only a couple of failed tests away from becoming weird and uncool. “First of all, I never used to hang out with Billy. He only moved here a couple months ago. So, I’m not going back to anything. And second of all, how could I forget about you guys? We saved the world together.” 

               “Actually, El saved the world.”

               “Right. El saved the world. But we helped. Together. Are you going to stop hanging out with me once she doesn’t have to be in hiding all the time?”

               “Are you comparing Billy to El?”

               “No. But-”

               “Good.”

               “When you guys became friends with Max, you didn’t stop being friends with each other, right?”

               “You’re _friends_ with him?” Dustin shouted. “I thought you guys just bumped into each other or something!”

               Steve groaned. “Dustin, come on.”

               “Pull over.”

               “You’ve got school-”

               “Pull over.”

               He steered the car off to the side of the road and unbuckled his seatbelt in case Dustin did something dramatic like run off into the woods. They had a couple extra minutes so he wouldn’t be able to threaten him with being late to science class.

               Dustin stared him down. “Swear.”

               “What?”

               “Swear you’re not going to become a huge jerk who hates us and that if he even looks at you funny then you’re going to tell us so El can use her crazy mind powers to kick his ass.”

               The thought of El, tiny and pale, trying to take on Billy Hargrove unnerved him even though logically he knew that she was more powerful than any of them. Maybe more powerful than anyone out there. “I could never hate you guys.”

               Dustin stretched out his hand and spat into it. “Spit swear.”

               “Eww.” Steve recoiled so fast that the back of his head cracked against the window. “I’m not touching your gross spit covered hand.”

               “Spit swear, Steve!”

               “I swear to- Fine!” He took Dustin’s hand and cringed as the cold glob of spit squished across the palm of his hand. “This is so stupid.”

               “Okay.” Dustin nodded solemnly. “You can hang out with Billy Hargrove.”

               “Great.” Steve pulled his hand away and looked at it. “Now what do we do?

               “Now, you drive me to school.”

               “I mean about the spit…”

               “This is why you should always have tissues in your car, Steve. My mom keeps a pack in her purse too.”

               And for a couple minutes he actually considered it. Not a purse, but maybe some kind of emergency supplies backpack. Then they pulled into the school parking lot and he reminded himself that the gate was closed and that there would be no more emergencies. The only kinds of emergencies they'd be facing from now on were the kinds of emergencies people like Hopper got paid to handle. Still, he made a mental note to buy a pack and stick it in the glovebox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and all of the comments. I adore all of you. <3


	19. Chapter 19

                Billy didn’t know how it happened. One minute they were sitting in the back of his Camaro smoking. And then they were kissing. No, not kissing. Making out. Steve had one hand buried in his hair and the other curled around the back of his neck. Tongues were involved. His fingers kneaded into Steve’s back through the thin fabric of his shirt. When had they taken their jackets off? It didn’t matter, because the hand on his neck slipped down to rub him over his jeans. It felt great. Unreasonably great. The friction sent him to verge of unravelling. Panting for air, he cast his eyes around the car searching for anything to anchor him. Anything to keep him from coming right then and there. There was a cassette tape on the floor of the car. It wasn’t his. But it had his name on the cover, encircled by a chain of tiny hearts.

                “Is that a mixta-”

                “Billy.” Steve kissed the corner of his mouth. The scrape of nails against his scalp sent trails of goosebumps over his arms.

                “Yeah.”

                “Billy.”

                “Yeah?”

                “Billy!”

                He shot upright in bed and hurled a tangled mess of sheet and blankets over his lap right before Max swung the door to his room wide open.

                “Billy!” She scowled. “Oh my god, why are you still in bed? I’m going to be late.”

                He squinted at his alarm clock.

 _Fuck_.

                He’d promised to take her to the library to work on some stupid science competition project. “Go wait in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

                She hesitated in the doorway. “Are you sick or something?”

                “What? No. Why?”

                “You’re all...” She wrinkled her nose. “Sweaty.”

                “I’m fine,” he croaked, praying to anyone and anything that would listen that he wasn’t turning red. “Go wait in the car.”

                When she closed the door, he launched out of bed. This was not good. Sure, it wasn’t the first time he woke up from a dream like that. It wasn’t even the first time he’d had a dream like that involving a guy he knew. But the mixtape was not okay. It had no place in that kind of dream. It was a serious problem. He threw his pajama pants and sheets in the corner of his closet and put on the first shirt and pair of jeans he found. He ran his fingers through his hair and then as a last resort splashed some cologne on himself. It would have to do.

                “Billy, what are you doing?”

                His dad wasn’t supposed to be home. He worked a morning shift on Saturdays. “What?”

                “I said, what are you doing? Because it looks to me like you’re primping in front of the mirror while your sister is waiting for you in the car.”

                “I’m taking her now.” His dad didn’t know that Max needed a ride to the library and Susan hadn’t asked him to do it. There wasn’t any reason for him to care or know that he’d overslept. He shouldered past him, out into the hallway.

                “We are not finished with this conversation.”                                             

                A hand landed on his arm and Billy wrenched away before his dad could get a real grip and spun around to face him. “If you don’t want her waiting then why don’t you drive her yourself?”

                And he knew that look. He dodged on instinct and promptly slipped on the stupid handmade throw rug in the hallway. His face collided with the shelving unit he’d put together for Susan a couple days ago. A flash of pain burst through his entire head. By the time he righted himself, the wires in his brain uncrossed and redirected it all to his cheekbone. It throbbed in a way that told him it would bruise.

                His dad raised his eyebrows, his mouth a hard line, but the edges of his eyes betrayed a hint of amusement. Apparently, the irony of avoiding a slap that would’ve stung for a couple minutes only to earn himself a collision with a shelf, did not escape him.

                “You should be careful, Billy.”

                Something cold and frantic crept low into his gut.

                “Billy?” Max shouted from the living room. “Are you coming?”

                “Yeah!” He shouted it over his shoulder and locked eyes with his dad for a moment waiting for him to say otherwise. When he didn’t, he walked away. He would pay for it later. Or maybe not. There was no predicting it. He got into the Camaro and started the car.

                “Billy.”

                “Yeah, I know. I know.” Everyone really had to stop saying his name over and over. It was starting to piss him off. “You’re late. We’re going.”

                “No, I mean-”

                “Don’t.” He gripped the steering wheel. The tremble in her voice told him that she was a couple seconds away from either bursting into tears or worse, saying something heartfelt. “For once in your life, shut the hell up and mind your own business.”

 

***

 

                He lit up a cigarette the second Max got out of the car. There was nothing to do in Hawkins in general. But there was really nothing to do early on a Saturday morning. Going home wasn’t an option so that left him with smoking and driving around. The nicotine might steady him enough to keep from speeding and getting a ticket he couldn’t afford.

                Someone knocked on the passenger side window. He looked over to find Steve with his face almost pressed into the glass, hands shielding his eyes from a nonexistent glare like a complete dork.

                They’d been seeing more of each other. Most days they exchanged a couple words in the locker room after basketball practice. Sometimes they talked smack about each other’s plays. Other times they joked around about whatever stupid shit came to mind. Sometimes they ended up at the library together and Steve asked him to read over a paper or to look over his Spanish homework. It wasn’t anything special. But sometimes they bumped into each other on the weekends at the gas station or near the arcade. And Steve stopped to talk to him anyway. Sometimes they smoked a cigarette or two together and didn’t talk much at all.

                Steve opened the door and got in without waiting for an invite. “Hey.”

                “Hey yourself.”

                Steve took him in. His eyes pausing on his cheek before continuing down as if searching for something then coming back up to linger on the spot where his face throbbed. “What happened to you?”

                “I tripped.”

                “Into what? A fist?”

                Billy grinned even though it hurt to do it. “Something like that.”

                Steve would drop it. Billy knew he would. No one was really surprised when Billy showed up with a bruise or a black eye and with good reason. He liked to run his mouth. He got into fights. It made sense. No one bothered to dig in and push him for another answer.

                “Whose fist was it?”

                “You worried about the other guy?”

                “Cut the crap.” Steve didn’t sound angry or annoyed, just resigned. As if he expected the conversation to drag on and could predict all the lines they’d throw back and forth before he got to the truth.

                Billy shrugged. His whole face ached from the pull of muscles that it took to draw a soothing haze of smoke into his lungs and expel it. He considered Steve through the smoke. He knew he should deflect, but no one ever pushed him on this. “My old man’s got a temper. Runs in the family.”

                “Your _dad_ did that to you?”

                “Thinks I need a lesson in responsibly.” Billy smirked. It was funny, because here he was, letting himself be alone with Steve Harrington, being irresponsible all over again. And Steve didn’t look shocked. They were in Hawkins. A place untouched by all the hippy dippy sixties peace and flower power shit. A decent amount of the townsfolk believed in cutesy sayings like spare the rod and spoil the child.

                “Hmm.” It wasn’t a hum of agreement, it was a thoughtful sound. Steve held out his hand in a familiar gesture and Billy passed him the cigarette. He wasn’t sure when they’d crossed into wordlessly sharing cigarettes. Steve examined the filter as if he couldn’t remember what to do with it. “That’s bullshit.”

                “Life’s mostly bullshit.”

                “That’s real deep, Billy.” Steve said, with a hint of amusement. He passed the cigarette back without taking a drag from it. “The kids won’t be done for hours. You wanna get out of here?”

                “And do what?”

                “I’ve still got a pool.”

                It wasn’t warm enough to be in an outdoor pool. But he’d take any excuse to be done with their brief foray into honest conversation and he hadn’t been swimming since moving to Hawkins. Nothing sounded better than diving into water and pushing through it until his lungs burned. He could taste the chlorine. 

                “Fuck, yeah.”

                “Don’t tailgate me the whole way there, asshole.”

                He couldn’t let that go unchallenged, but he waited until they got off the main roads to do it. For someone who drove like a grandma, Steve spent a lot of time pulled over on the side of the road talking to the Chief of Police. Steve rolled down his window to flip him off and slowed down even more. Billy parked too close to him in the driveway and swaggered his way up to the front door. Even in daylight the place loomed over him like something out of a horror movie.

                Steve led him inside and waved his hand around like the world’s laziest real estate agent presenting a rundown shithole that spoke for itself.

                “So.” He took his shoes off and set them in the corner. There was a fucking hole in his sock. “This is how royalty lives.”

                Billy had seen places like this before. Full of pristine unused furniture and yet somehow empty. Susan loved flipping through magazines full of them. The Harringtons had even had some kind of half-assed Japanese theme going on, complete with cranes and fake bamboo.  

                Steve took off his shoes too and kicked them into the corner. “Come on, I’ve got a pair of swim trunks you can borrow somewhere in my room.”

                “Sweet deal you’ve got yourself.” He followed him up the staircase, the dry skin on the heel of his foot scraping against the beige carpet. “Big house, a pool, no neighbors to come snooping, and the folks travel out of town. Pretty boy like you could get himself into some trouble.”

                “You don’t know the half of it.”

                Steve nudged open the door to his room and went to the closet. Billy rested his hands on the doorframe and took in the space. He wondered how many chicks had gotten an invite up here. It was a weird room. And not because of the awful plaid wallpaper. A giant bed took center stage and everything else was kind of… empty. There was a poster of a car and a chick in a bikini. And a fuck ton of lamps. A desk lamp. A lamp on each of the bedside tables. And a floor lamp in each corner. But the room didn’t have any of the usual mess and knickknacks of a teenage guy’s bedroom. Even his dad would call the place austere.

                “You got some kind of lamp fetish?”

                “Huh?” Steve emerged from behind the closet door with a box labeled ‘Summer Clothes’ in neat block letters and looked around as if he didn’t know that it wasn’t normal to keep seven lamps in a room of this size. “Oh yeah, I like my room bright.”

                “Well, at least I know you’re not a vampire.”

                “Lamps don’t work on vampires.” Steve set the box on his bed and took off the lid. “You need real sunlight.”

                “Steve Harrington. Former king, current monster expert.”

                Steve flung a pair of green swim trunks at him. “The bathroom’s down the hall. Meet me downstairs. I’ll get the towels.”

                Most people didn’t trust him to wander their house unsupervised. Scott freaked out the one time he found him in an upstairs bathroom during a party. Billy saw him check that the door to what he assumed was his parents’ bedroom was still locked. As if he expected to find the lock broken and a bunch of stuff missing. He went down the hallway and looked into every room on the way. It wasn’t snooping if all the doors were flung open.

                There was a master bedroom that looked bigger than his living room, complete with a fireplace. Perfume bottles, make up brushes, and jewelry boxes crowded the vanity across from the entrance. A tan corduroy sports coat hung over the back of the vanity chair. And there was an office. Full of oversized dark furniture that didn’t match the décor of the rest of the house. Probably a bunch of heirlooms passed down through the generations.

                He stepped into the bathroom all the way at the end of the hall. It was enormous, with a separate shower and bathtub. Soft white bathmats covered the dark blue floor tiles. There was an unused scented candle on the toilet tank and a bar of soap in the shape of a seashell. It felt weird to take his clothes off in a space so pristine he was pretty sure mold wouldn’t dare appear on the grout. He changed into the swim trunks as fast as he could and folded his clothes. He didn’t know what to do with them so he took them with him in an awkward pile and went downstairs.

                “There you are. Thought you might’ve fallen in.” Steve carried two of the biggest towels he’d ever seen in one hand and waved his other hand at the couch. “Toss your clothes anywhere.”

                He set his clothes on the arm of the couch and looked around the living room like the unlocked liquor cabinet and full bar wasn’t blowing his mind. Steve didn’t need to know that he’d never been in a place this nice sober. “You ready to see some real swimming, Harrington?”

                “Show me what you’ve got.” Steve yanked open the sliding door and raced out onto the patio, he flung the towels off to the side, and cannonballed at a run into the deepest part of the pool. Billy raced after him, bare feet slapping against the freezing ground. He dove into the steaming water.

                The warmth welcomed him with the illusion of summer. Outdoor pools got warm and soupy like this on the hottest days of summer. He let himself sink to the bottom and held his breath until his lungs burned then burst out into the cold air. The wind felt even colder against his wet hair and face. “Fuck. What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

                Steve cackled. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

                “Why would anyone choose to live here?”

                “They don’t. They’re born here.” Steve tipped his head back so that his hair fanned out in the water. “Except you. So, I guess the real question is, why’d you move here?”

                _Because even in a town three times the size of Hawkins, word gets around that the son of a military man got arrested for sucking someone off in a parking lot._

                The reckless part of him almost said it, if only to relish the shock and disgust that would follow. Steve might take a swing at him and that would be enough excuse to unleash the nervous energy crawling under his skin. But the saner part of him prevailed. He swam over to the edge of the pool. “First to do five laps. Beat me and I’ll tell you.”

                “And if I lose?” Steve joined him by the wall.

                “I get to ask you anything I want.”

                “Okay.”

                It was the easiest unfair bet he’d ever made. He kicked up from the floor and took off without warning. An unfair bet called for a little foul play. The cold air whipped against his arms every time they emerged from the water. Cold air made it harder to breathe, but he didn’t mind. He loved the slight discomfort in his lungs, the way his body knew the fluid motions that let him glide through the water. Nothing compared to the thrill of a kick off the wall that sent him halfway across a pool this size with so little effort. In the water everything else faded from his mind. He slapped his hand on the cold edge of the pool on his final lap to mark his victory.

                “Not bad.” Steve knocked his foot into his arm from his seat on the edge of the pool. He had one of the towels wrapped around him.

                “Shit.” Billy swiped the water off his face. “You’re actually good.”

                “Told you.”

                Steve tossed the towel aside and slipped back in the water. He kicked up from the ground to float on his back. Billy joined him. When he closed his eyes to block out the sight of a gray sky and naked trees, he could almost imagine it was a summer day. Steve floated in the water next to him. His fingers grazed against his side, right below his ribs, and floated away without panic or rushed apologies. It was nice. He hadn’t had this kind of nice in a really long time.

                “So, why _did_ you move here?”

                “My dad married Susan. Didn’t want her ex sniffing around all the time. Found the world’s biggest shithole on the map. Got himself a job offer right outside of it. And here we are.”

                “That has got to be the most boring story I’ve ever heard.”

                Billy snorted and kicked himself upright. Water splashed up into his eyes and nose. Chlorine burned his sinuses. He’d heard the rumors around the school. There was one about him being on the run from a coke deal gone bad. “Sorry to disappoint.”

                Steve pushed himself upright and looked at him. Just looked at him for a long time without saying anything. A full body shiver raced through him.

                “Ready to get out?”

                “Yeah.”

                They dried themselves off as quickly as they could and raced back in the house. Steve closed and locked the sliding door behind them. Billy grabbed his clothes from the couch and made for the stairs.

                “Billy.”

                “I’m going to change.”

                “Billy.”

                He turned around to look back at him. “Yeah?”

                “I’m not.”

                “You’re not what?”

                “Disappointed.”

                And he wasn’t sure he really understood what that meant, but it meant something. At the very least it meant that maybe hearing Steve say his name over and over again wasn’t as ridiculous as the rest of his dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow this became the kind of slowburn where we're 19 chapters in and they haven't even kissed. But I swear that the tags are accurate! 
> 
> As always thank you everyone for the kudos and comments. I love hearing from all of you.


	20. Chapter 20

               Billy left to pick up Max right after he changed back into his clothes. Steve didn’t have an excuse to follow him. He’d dropped Will off in the morning because Jonathan had an early morning shift. He was getting off in time to pick him up. Which left him with half a Saturday full of nothing but thinking to do. And he really didn’t want to spend the whole day thinking about the horrible bruise on Billy’s face and that he hadn’t come remotely close to saying the right thing about it. He was old enough to know that there probably wasn’t one exact combination of correct words for this situation. But he was pretty sure that none of the right combinations of words included the word ‘bullshit’.

               Instead of thinking he washed and dried their barely used towels. Triple checked that the sliding door to the pool was locked. Made and ate a turkey sandwich. Washed the dishes. Checked the sliding door again. Went upstairs and opened his math book then closed it again. He’d found it under his bed next to the crowbar last week. Then picked up the phone and called Jonathan.

               “Hello?”

               “Hey, it’s Steve.”

               “Hey. Did Will forget something in your car?”

               “No.” He couldn’t blame him for making that assumption. He’d never called Jonathan before. They figured out all the pick up and drop off schedules in person. “I called to see if you want to hang out.”

               “Hang out?” Jonathan repeated the word as if it were a foreign phrase he was trying out for the first time.

               “Yeah. We could…” He had no idea what Jonathan liked to do. He liked reading and photography, but neither of those were group activities. “You could come over and we can order a pizza or uh-listen to music?” The silence on the other end of the line went on for so long that he thought for sure the Byers phone suffered irreparable damage again. “Jonathan?”

               “Yeah- Uh- I could eat. I’ll be over in a few.”

               Which was how he ended up with a first-time visitor to his house for the second time in one day. Somehow even though he’d know Jonathan almost as long as he’d know Tommy, sitting across from him at his kitchen island watching him nibble on the world’s driest pizza crust was way more awkward than lending Billy a pair of too small swimming trunks.

               “Your house is nice.”

               “Thanks.” He couldn’t take the credit for that, but it was the polite thing to say. He went over to the fridge and pulled out a can of Dr. Pepper. He hated root beer, but he kept some around for Will and Max. He slid it over to Jonathan.

               “Thanks.”

               “No problem.”

               In the silence, he had no choice but to admit to himself that there was a reason he’d called Jonathan of all people. When he was in the sixth grade, he’d snuck out of baseball practice for a couple minutes and gone out into the school parking lot. He couldn’t remember why. Probably to prove that he could or on a bet for a stick of gum. Once he got out there, he forgot about whatever it was he had planned because Jonathan was in the parking lot alone. In those days Jonathan was always the last kid to get picked up. It made him the perfect target. But before he could come up with anything to shout out at him, Mr. Byers pulled up. Steve didn’t remember the in between. Had they talked? Had there been yelling? Or had Mr. Byers gotten out of his car without saying anything at all? What he did remember was Jonathan, scrawny and with the same awful bowl cut, getting slapped across the face. It wasn’t the shock of unexpected violence that stuck with him for all these years. It was that Jonathan hadn’t cried. And Jonathan used to cry over _everything._ People called him a crybaby because he cried when he got shoved on the playground and when a teacher scolded him for talking too loudly in the hallway. One time, Steve saw him burst into tears when the lunch lady gave him a chocolate bunny.

               “Can I ask you something about your dad?”

               Jonathan scowled. “Will told you.”

               “Told me what?”

               “He wants Will to visit him in Indianapolis for the summer.”

               “And Will doesn’t want to go?”

               “He does.”

               “And that’s… bad?”

 _You’re a real wordsmith, aren’t you Harrington?_ Why did the voice in his own head sound so much like Billy?

               “Will wants to try out for the baseball team next year. And I know our dad’s behind it. He used to talk about how he could’ve gone pro. Never shut up about how he gave it up because of our mom. Anyway, I told him I’d help him practice over the summer. No need to go all the way out to Indianapolis. But apparently, I can’t help him and the real reason I offered is because I don’t want him to be normal so I don’t have to be a friendless freak all by myself.”

               “Wow.” Steve cleared his throat. He couldn’t really picture Will saying any of that. “Wow. That’s-”

               Jonathan waved him off. “I don’t care about that. But I _know_ him. He’s going to back out at the last minute like he always does. Or he’ll forget to show up and pick him up.” Jonathan set the remainder of his crust down on his plate. “Do you know he hasn’t come down to see him since the funeral? Will was in the hospital for a week after they found him and he couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone and talk to him once.”

               Steve didn’t know much about Mr. Byers. He remembered that day in the parking lot and seeing him at the grocery store sometimes, bleary eyed and tired under fluorescent lighting. A look that he could now identify from personal experience as a hangover. And then at some point he was gone for so long that Steve kind of forgot he’d ever existed.

               “That really sucks.” Apparently, he hadn’t made it past grade school vocabulary when it came to this kind of situation. And that wasn’t really fair to kids in grade school. Dustin would definitely know some better words to use in this situation.

               “Sorry.” Jonathan took a huge gulp of root beer. He kind of looked like he needed to do it to keep himself from crying. “Nancy’s right. It’s normal sibling stuff.”

               He knew all about dealing with sibling stuff. When Nancy complained to him about Mike all he’d ever had to do was agree with her that he was being an annoying brat. But Will wasn’t a brat. And even if he was, if he said it, he put the odds at pretty good that Jonathan would punch him in the face for saying it.

               “Will’s right.”

               Jonathan eyed him with weary resignation.

               “You can’t help him practice for tryouts. You’re terrible at baseball.”

               Which at least made Jonathan snort.

               “Don’t laugh,” Steve said putting on his best ‘Coach Bell giving an important pre-game speech’ face. “I’m serious. You’re _horrible._ Probably the worst player Hawkins has ever seen. You hit yourself in the head with your own bat at tryouts.”

               “Oh god.” Jonathan groaned and buried his face in his hands for a couple seconds before emerging. “Why’d you have to remind me?”

               “Why’d you even try out?”

               “My dad made me.”

               Which made a lot more sense than Tommy’s theory at the time which blamed it on demonic possession because they’d managed to trick their parents into letting them watch _The Exorcist_ that weekend _._

               “We were so stupid back then.”

               “Yeah. I should’ve skipped tryouts. He forgot to show up anyway.”

               It was kind of Jonathan to say it as if they’d been friends back then and Steve hadn’t spent most of that year passively watching and occasionally helping other kids make his life a living hell.

               “I mean I was so stupid.” They’d never talked about when they’d been younger. He wasn’t sure if Nancy remembered or knew about any of it, but Jonathan had to. After all the Upside Down stuff things were awkward between them, until suddenly they were less awkward. And then things were good. It never felt like the right time to bring up all the ordinary stuff from before that. Like maybe he’d waited too long and missed his chance to say anything about it. “I spent years being an asshole.”

               “Forget it. It was a long time ago.” Jonathan shrugged and took another sip of his soda. “Besides, I was a weird kid.”

               By a lot of standards, he hadn’t grown out of that. At some point that no longer felt like a challenge to his whole ordinary existence. Not that it had ever been an excuse for all the petty tortures he'd invented for him with Tommy.

               “I’ve got a whole shelf of plastic trophies and first place ribbons in my basement. They’re pretty good for gathering dust and not much else. But you can take photos to pay the bills. You had the right idea back then.”

               “I haven’t paid any bills with my photos,” Jonathan pointed out.

               “You will.” Steve set their plates in the sink even though he’d have to go back and fish out the leftover crusts. “How’s the portfolio?”

               “I shouldn’t complain about it, but there’s absolutely nothing happening in Hawkins.”

               Steve motioned for Jonathan to follow him out into the living room. “Why don’t you come to one of the basketball games? It’s historic stuff. We’ve never played this bad.”

               He sat down on the couch that no one ever used because it wasn’t all that comfortable. Steve kicked his feet up on the coffee table which at least made it tolerable.

               Jonathan wandered over to the sliding doors. “I bet Tommy and the rest of the team would _love_ that.”

               For a couple seconds, he’d forgotten that the rest of the team hadn’t undergone the same kind of transformational shock to the system. A lot of the guys still thought of Jonathan as the guy who got caught taking creepy pictures. Most of them suspected there were worse photos out there that no one had found. “Okay. Not a game then. I’ll ask some of the guys to stay after practice. The one’s who aren’t complete douchebags.”

               Jonathan still looked skeptical. “You really think they’ll want to stick around after school to help me with a portfolio?”

               “I’ll tell them you’ll make a couple prints for them.”

               “Why would anyone want prints of themselves practicing basketball?”

               "I don’t know. What does anyone do with photos? Give them to their girlfriend or their grandma? Submit them to the yearbook? Stick them in an album and not look at them for another five years?”

               Jonathan stared outside. It had gotten dark and the distant blue glow of the pool cast shadows over his face. “You ever think about that night?”

               “I try not to.” He hadn’t been in the water since that night. Until earlier. Having Billy and his bruised face as a distraction had made it easier to get back into the pool without thinking about any of that.

               “I can’t believe I’m the last person who saw her.”

               “If it wasn’t for me and that stupid party, she’d still be alive.” He didn’t go on to point out the countless other things that might have followed. They wouldn’t be together in his living room if it wasn’t for that party. Nancy and him would be out on a double date with Tommy and Carol. And Jonathan would be doing whatever it was that he did before he’d started dating Nancy and appearing in public without his camera.

               “If it wasn’t for you, Will would be dead.” Jonathan turned around and leaned back against the glass. “Nancy never would’ve come to ask me about Barb. We would’ve stopped looking for him after the funeral.”

               “Your mom and Hopper would’ve figured it out.”

               "Maybe." Jonathan sat down on the couch next to him. “But you’re not that special, Steve.”

               “ _Thanks_.”

               "Lots of people have parties. None of that happened because of what you did. Besides, once in a while, you come up with a not so terrible idea.”

               “You really know how to cheer a guy up, don’t you?”

               “Ask some of the meatheads about staying after practice. It can’t go any worse than photographing a demogorgon.”

***

               The phone ringing woke him up on Sunday morning. He stumbled his way out of his room and raced down the hallway. No one ever called that early in the morning on the weekends. Something had to be wrong.

               “Hello?”

               “Rise and shine, Harrington.”

               “ _Billy_?”

               “No, it’s your fairy godmother. I need my pumpkin carriage back.”

               Steve pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. He figured if he was dreaming, he’d find himself holding something else, like a hamburger. But it was his actual phone so he put it back to his ear. “How’d you get my number?”

               “I checked under d for dumbass in the phone book. Get dressed. You’re coming with me to Indianapolis. I’ll pick you up in ten.”

               Which was somehow the last thing he was expecting to hear and exactly the type of thing he expected Billy to say. There were any number of questions he could ask. Such as what for? Why at this ungodly hour? And why me? But a faint hint of excitement at the possibility of an adventure that didn’t involve monsters or underground tunnels took over instead. “Okay.”

               He brushed his teeth and got dressed. Billy pulled up and laid on the horn before he managed to finish. He shoved his feet into his still tied sneakers and grabbed his coat before racing out into his driveway. The Camaro looked bluer in the rare warm winter sunlight.

               Billy had sunglasses on and a leather jacket that wasn’t warm enough for the weather. He pushed them up on his head when Steve got in the car. They pushed the curls out of his face. “Do you own a polo in every color?”

               “Why? You want to borrow one so your abs don’t freeze off?”

               “That’s okay. Sears already rejected my submission to model for the Squares of Summer section of their catalogue.” Billy nudged the sunglasses back down to his face. “Buckle up. We’re not stopping until I can’t see cornfields.”

               Steve put on his seatbelt and ignored the jab. Purple was in. No matter what Billy might think about it. “So, why the road trip?”

               “I need new music.”

               “And you want my advice?”

               “No,” Billy said in a tone that suggested he’d never heard a greater insult. “I need a guide. I can’t drive this fast and read a map.”

               He was pretty sure Billy wouldn’t be able to get himself lost on the way to Indianapolis if he tried. You didn’t need a map when you lived out in the middle of nowhere. All you had to do was get on the highway and follow the signs to Indianapolis. But he didn’t mind a chance to sit back and enjoy a change of scenery. He spent plenty of time driving people around. It was nice to be in the passenger seat when the driver wasn’t a kid without a license.

               He opened up the glove compartment and flipped through the cassette tapes. “Do you listen to anything that isn’t heavy metal?”

               “Sometimes I switch it up with metal.”

               Steve shut the compartment. He’d been hoping to find something to back up his growing suspicion that there was a lot more to Billy than the whole bad boy with a leather jacket persona.

               “You doing anything after practice Wednesday?”

               “Why?”

               “Some of the guys are gonna stay late and Jonathan’s going to take photos. He’s making prints for them.”

               Billy raised an eyebrow. “Is this some kind of weird small-town kinky shit?”

               “You’ve got an overactive imagination.” His dad used to tell him that when he whined about wanting a nightlight to keep the monsters out of his room at night. His mom ended up buying him one and as it turned out the joke was on them because lights were a decent monster alert system. “It’s _photos_.”

               “Which guys?”

               “I don’t know. I haven’t asked them yet. Does it matter?”

               Billy scrunched his face up. “What am I supposed to do with a bunch of photos of myself?”

               “You don’t have to ask for copies. You just have to show up and do one of those stupid under the leg jump shots. It’s for his job application.”

               “Admit it.” Billy grinned and ran his tongue over his teeth the way he did every time he came up with some smartass comment. “This is gonna be homemade jerk off material.”

               Steve scowled and looked away. “You’re the grossest person I’ve ever met.”

               “Chill out.” Billy punched his shoulder. “I’ll be there. This job he’s applying for. Does it have any other openings?”

               “Probably not.”

               “Shit. This place is a fucking dead zone. I’m not spending the summer working food service. It’s bad enough when you don’t know every asswipe you’re serving.”

               He stared out the window for a while longer to make his point. It used to be that he was the one making jokes like that. Being on the other end of them didn’t feel great. He didn't know why. Guys made jokes like that all the time. It didn't mean anything.

               Billy sighed. “Guess I’ll end up doing oil and tire changes at the place outside of town like my dad wants. Better than nothing.”

               And that was enough to reel him back into the conversation. If there was one thing he could sympathize with, it was a dad pushing you towards a job. “Why don’t you apply to be a lifeguard? They always hire extra people. Half of them quit a few weeks into sitting in the blazing sun and dealing with screaming kids.”

               They must’ve driven past some clouds because Billy literally glowed. “You’re serious? They have openings?”

               “They hire pretty much everyone who passes the tests.”

               “Hell yeah!” Billy turned on the radio. As if he needed a soundtrack to his celebration.

_I need a love reaction. Come on now baby gimme just one look. You can’t start a fire-_

               “Jesus.” Billy slapped it back off. “I hate that song.”

               “Why?” He expected to hear a long rant about Bruce Springsteen and sappy rock music. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if Billy shared most of Jonathan’s disdain for popular music.

               “Brings back shitty memories.”

               “Oh.”

               “Is it really only kids at the pool?”

               “Nah. Everyone’s there in the summer.” It was the place to be when the freezing winds disappeared leaving behind unbearable summer heat. He went there all the time even though he had a pool of his own.

               It was still early by the time they made it to Indianapolis and the store wasn’t hard to find. He used to go to it with Tommy all the time. They parked right in front. There was only one other car in the lot this early in the morning. The place was huge. The guy at the register glanced up at them. His eyes paused for a moment on Billy’s wide-open shirt before sliding over to Steve with a sour expression. If Billy noticed then it didn’t bother him. He went towards the back of the store as if he’d been there hundreds of times and knew exactly where to look for what he wanted.

               Steve let him explore while he aimlessly flipped through random cassettes. He’d never gotten into music the way people like Billy and Jonathan did. If someone gave him new stuff or it happened to be playing then he listened. Otherwise the stuff on the radio worked fine. The top ten hits of any given month could play over and over for all he cared. He didn’t mind. He glanced over at Billy. He had his wallet in his hands and dug through it for a moment before shoving it back in his pocket. He moved to the next aisle.

               He wished there was a way to buy some tapes for him without making things weird. What good was it having a huge allowance if he couldn’t use it for anything other than a burger at the diner and a movie ticket? Christmas was too far back for him to claim anything as a belated present.

               “When’s your birthday?” He asked, going over to the discount bin Billy was digging through.

               Billy scowled at an old Phil Collins tape. “April.”

               “April what?”

               “First.”

               Steve groaned. “Come on, I’m being serious.”

               “So am I.”

               “Prove it.”

               Billy laughed. “What? You don’t trust me?”

               “Nope.”

               He snatched the edge of the wallet out of Billy’s back pocket. It wasn’t an easy task to extract it the whole way and the back of his hand made way more over the jeans body contact than he’d anticipated. How did Billy breathe in jeans that tight? Billy stared at him with wide eyed surprise. Steve backed up to put a couple bins between them.

               “Give that back.” Billy followed him much slower than he could. Steve watched him maneuvering past the defense on the court enough to know that.

               He flipped the wallet open and sure enough, found his driver’s license on display behind the little square of clear plastic. Billy smiled back at him from the photo. No one had a right to look that good in an ID photo. Billy tried to snatch the wallet out of his hand, but Steve raised it over his head and squinted at the numbers. “You really are an April Fools’ baby.”

               “Told you.” Billy jabbed him right under the ribs. Steve jerked away and made to cover his sides instinctively. Billy tore the wallet out of his grasp.

               “You had short hair.”

               “Yeah.” He shoved the wallet back in his back pocket. “Back when I cared about looking respectable and shit.”

               Steve grinned. “Who said you-”

               “Hey!” The guy at the register walked out from behind the counter and towards them. “Either buy something or get out. I’m closing up in five minutes.”

               Steve glanced at his watch. “You opened twenty minutes ago.”

               “I’ve got a _church_ to get to.”

               Lots of places stayed closed on Sundays. And ever more places opened late or closed early. But he’d never heard of a place closing right after opening so the only employee on duty could go to a service. Anyway, he'd been here on a Sunday a couple months ago. “What-”

               “Let’s go,” Billy muttered. “They don’t have anything good anyway.”

               Steve followed Billy out of the store, too startled to point out that only a couple minutes ago he’d been going through the aisles like a kid set loose in a candy store. The guy locked the door behind them.

               “Now what?”

               “Now, we get the hell out of Hicksville before he calls the cops on us.”

               Which seemed a little paranoid. Sure, they’d been loud. But not nearly loud enough to justify getting kicked out, no less getting the cops called on them. “Come on. This place sucks. There’s another store across town. They open in a few minutes.”

               “I wanna go home.”

               It should’ve pissed him off. They’d driven for over an hour only to stop by a single store for a couple of minutes. Just because one guy working a register was an irritable jerk didn’t mean they had to leave Indianapolis. But then he saw the miserable expression on Billy’s face and his irritation disappeared. “Okay. Home it is.”

               They made it out of the city limits in complete silence. Steve turned on the radio once they got back out onto the highway. He didn’t bother changing the station, kind of hoping the music would snap Billy out of whatever was going on with him. When it didn’t, he tried another approach.

               “What are you gonna do for your birthday?”

               “I figured I’d do the whole country thing.” Billy raised the volume on Dolly Parton crooning about _Sweet Summer Lovin’._ If ever there’d been a song written that shouldn’t be blasted out of a car speaker at full volume, this was it. “Think my old man will spring for a pony ride?”

               The horrible lump of dread stirred in his stomach. Steve lowered the volume on the radio. This probably wasn’t the right time to bring it up. There’d never be a good time to bring it up. Might as well get it over with while Billy was in a bad mood anyway. “You ever try telling someone about your dad?”

               Billy kept his eyes fixed on the road. “I told you, didn’t I?”

               “I mean like a cop.”

               “A cop?” Billy laughed. He didn’t sound amused. “Yeah. That’s a great idea. Calling the cops on him is gonna put my dad in a real good mood. I’ll try that out next time.”

               “They could-”

               “Are you fucking crazy?” Billy glared at him. It startled him to see how pissed off he looked. He hadn’t seen him that angry since the night at the Byers. The dark bruise made him look meaner. “It’s not a crime to smack your kid for mouthing off. Stay the hell out of this, Steve. If you tell anyone-”

               “I’m not going to tell anyone.” Steve raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying-”

               “Well stop saying it.”

               “You don’t get a bruise like that from a smack across the face.”

               “Christ.” Billy pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and fumbled with it one handed. “I told you, I tripped. Not like he decked me.”

               Steve bit back asking if he ever had. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with the answer. “What about Max?”

               “What about her?”

               “Does he-”

               “No.” Billy managed to get a cigarette into his mouth. “So, forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

               Steve wished that he had a cool aunt or uncle he could talk to about this kind of thing. Someone he could trust to give him decent advice on where to go from here. If he kept pushing then at best, he risked the two of them never talking to each other again in anything except insults. At worst, he might get kicked out of the Camaro right in the middle of nowhere. And he didn’t want either of those things. Because when he thought about it, he realized that he _liked_ Billy. He was confident and funny. Which were the obvious things that he supposed almost everyone liked about him. But he liked other things too. Around him there wasn’t any reason to worry if maybe he’d said or not said something that pissed him off because when Billy was pissed off the whole world knew about it. Which was refreshing. And for someone who never shut up he was a surprisingly good listener.

               “We should go to the Spring Fair.”

               “What?”

               “For your birthday,” Steve explained. “They do it every year. It doesn’t have rides or anything, but they set up all these booths and a petting zoo.” It was a real effort to downplay just how much he liked the fair. He loved it every bit as much as when he’d been a kid. Trying to win at rigged carnival games for a giant stuffed animal never got old.

               “Sounds like a real hoot.” Billy lit the cigarette and pulled on it as if it might disappear out of his hands if he didn't smoke it fast enough.

               “It’s not as lame as it sounds. Plus, if it doesn’t rain then there’s usually a bonfire or two to go to.”

               “I’ll think about it.”

               They drove back to Hawkins with the slight murmur of the radio in the background. When _Dancing In The Dark_ came on again and Steve turned off the radio and they drove the rest of the way back in silence.

               Billy pulled into his driveway. “Your stop, amigo.”

               “You wanna come in?”

               “No. I gotta get home.”

               Steve hesitated. “Are we… good?”

               Billy bit down on his nail. His teeth slipped off and clicked together with a loud clack. “We’re good.”

               And Steve smiled because he didn’t feel the nagging doubt that maybe Billy wasn’t being completely honest with him. He could trust that if he said they were good, then they were good. He punched Billy in the shoulder, barely pressed his fist into the leather of his jacket. He could see the scrapes on it from when he’d knocked him off his feet in the icy parking lot. “Friends?”

               For a split second, Billy looked… upset. The way he had outside the store. If Steve hadn’t learned to believe his own eyes even when what he saw defied all logic, then he would’ve thought it was his imagination. It was only an instant. Then Billy grinned back at him, lazy and confident. He rolled his eyes and punched him back, hard. “Friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who may be wondering, this fic is outlined and mostly drafted so the quickly approaching new season won’t have much impact. Not to say I won’t be inspired to add a little detail here and there, but overall this ship is sailing ahead, no matter what happens in canon. 
> 
> As always, thank you everyone for the comments and kudos!


	21. Chapter 21

               The trip to Indianapolis put him on edge. Every time the phone rang or the principal ducked her head into a classroom, he thought for sure it would be the cops asking to talk to him about the fading bruise on his face. He’d mentioned it, because he trusted Steve to not give a shit and keep his mouth shut. Then Steve changed the rules and decided to become friends. _Friends._ All of his impulsive decisions blew up in his face. Sometimes it took a while for it to happen, but it always happened.

               Monday came and went. Nothing bad happened.

               On Tuesday, he got a B on his history essay. He’d worked hard to get the perfect grade. A string of A pluses drew suspicions of cheating or worse, an interest in his ‘potential’ that only increased when he started fights in the hallways. Multiple Cs and Ds ended up in letters that got mailed home. Mediocre grades were the key to avoiding unnecessary attention.

               At lunch he sat across from Scott and nodded along to whatever Carol was talking about from her seat next to Tommy. Something about a mall? Sitting somewhere else would be acknowledging that he cared enough to notice the games the two of them played behind his back. It would be a one-way ticket to Loserville. Surrounded by the safety of their obnoxious chatter he gave in to the urge to replay every moment at the store. Searched the memory over and over for his mistake. He wanted to blame Steve for slipping a hand into the back pocket of his jeans. But he couldn’t place the blame on the straight guy in this equation. Guys joked around and slapped each other on the ass on the court and in locker rooms. That never raised eyebrows.

               The guy had just known _._ The same way his dad had suspected it long before the cops confirmed it for him by explaining exactly what they meant by public indecency.

               Nothing bad happened on Tuesday.

               On Wednesday he stayed late after practice. The click click clicking of the camera shutter filled the mostly empty gym. Only Ethan and Doug stayed late with him and Steve. He wasn’t sure if the other guys decided not to stick around or if they’d never gotten an invite. He did a couple jump shots then a couple more when Steve pointed out he should approach from the other side so the bruise on his face wouldn’t show up in the photos. It was an uneventful day.

               Thursday, Susan made spaghetti for dinner and Max called him gross when he served himself a third helping.

               He went to the grocery store on Friday with a list written out by his dad in meticulous print on the back of a receipt.

               “Boo!”

               Billy almost crushed the flimsy cardboard carton of eggs in his hands. He hated when people got up in his face without warning. His heart pounded. “Steve, what the actual fuck?”

               “What are you doing here?” Steve asked calmly. As if he hadn’t snuck up behind him and gotten so close to his ear that his breath hit the side of his face.  

               “Committing armed robbery.”

               Steve grinned and squeezed his bicep. “With these guns?”

               Which raised two important questions. First, why was he friends with someone who made jokes like that without any sense of shame? And more importantly, when the fuck had Steve gotten so handsy? Half the reason he used to spent all of basketball practice trying to knock Steve off his feet was because it gave him an excuse to get into his space. Lately he didn’t need any excuses, because Steve was _everywhere._ Clapping him on the back after practice. Bumping a shoulder into him when they passed each other in the hallways. Scraping his fingers against his hand when he borrowed a pencil at the library. And yeah, that first one might be normal sportsmanly conduct. The second one was not shocking from someone who used to hold the title of King. And the third one, could be accidental. But he didn’t know how to explain this. It had to be a small-town thing. It was his catch all explanation for anything and everything that didn’t make sense about Hawkins.

               He glanced into Steve’s basket and caught sight of gummy worms, Eggos, popcorn, fruit roll-ups, and juice boxes. “Stocking up on the essentials I see.”

               “I’m hosting a movie night for the kids tomorrow.”

               “You forgot the Nerds.” And damn it, teachers were right about bad influences. It wasn’t an original joke. It wasn’t even funny. Steve laughed so loud that a couple people in the aisle turned around to look at him. It was embarrassing. “What’s the movie?”

               “Robin Hood _._ ”

               He’d seen it at the movie theater as a kid. His mom took him twice because he’d loved it so much. “They’re a little old for that, don’t you think? If you’re not going to be cool and rent them a rated R movie then at least pick up _Ghostbusters_ or something.”

               Steve shrugged. “It’s Max’s idea.”

               “Max _hates_ kid movies.”

               “It’s for Jane, she’s never seen a Disney movie.”

               “You’re kidding, right?”

               Steve lowered his voice a bit. “I don’t think she ever got a chance to do all the normal kid stuff. She had kind of a rough childhood, you know?”

               And he did know, but he’d never been deprived of the chance to watch a kid’s movie and give himself a stomach ache by washing too much candy and popcorn down with a soda. “That’s cool of you.”

               Which was exactly the kind of thing he shouldn't be admitting. Or maybe exactly the kind of thing he should be? He was a little rusty on the details of a friendship that stretched outside the confines of a school building and didn't require maintenance in the form of a handjob in the backseat of his car.

               “It’s no big deal. You wanna come?”

               “No thanks.” He wasn’t about to ruin some poor girl’s night of kid fun by making all her friends anxious with his presence. “I’m busy anyway. Susan wants me home to help with repainting the kitchen.”

               “Oh.” Steve nodded. “What about the date? You still wanna go?”

               His whole mouth went dry. “What?”

               “With Sherri?” Steve gave him a weird look. “Didn’t you say you need a fake girlfriend?”

               “Oh.” He shook his head. “No. I think he forgot about it.”

               “You sure? Because she’s right there.” Steve nodded his head subtly to the side. “I can be your wingman.”

               As if he needed a wingman. He glanced in her direction to fake some interest in the offer. Looked her up and down, as if there was anything there that he wanted to see. Being around Steve made it harder to pretend. “Nah. I’m good.”

               Saturday night he laid down on his bed and put on his _Highway to Hell_ tape. Not too loud even though he could’ve blasted it because his dad was out of the house and Max was still over at Steve’s house. Let the music wash over him without thinking about much of anything. A spider dropped down from the ceiling onto his _face._ He screamed. A few seconds later Susan burst into his room and he had to explain himself. And after that he figured the universe had doled out its punishment for all of his recent stupidity. He was safe.

 

***

 

               Winter crawled towards spring with an endless cycle of cold and grey days. It was every bit as horrible and miserable as he’d imagined it and somehow not so bad. He hated to even think something so cliché, but having a friend made things easier. Steve wasn’t like the friends he’d had before. Those friends were measured by days spent sitting together at lunch trading stories about the chicks they’d scored with and by the punches they’d taken and thrown for each other in alleys and school parking lots. Steve didn’t sit with him at lunch and punching was out of the question. Instead he shared cigarettes and invited him to swim on the rare warmer days. Switched teams with him at practice without asking any questions when he wanted to keep his shirt on to cover up the bruise from when his dad remembered the girlfriend that never showed up to dinner and shoved him into the fireplace before yelling at him, inches away from his face. Helped him out with his math homework once or twice. _What can I say? I’ve always been good at getting numbers._ He’d said it with the grin that Billy tried to look away from. Because in the tiny study room it felt private and special even though it wasn’t. Steve offered it up readily to everyone.

               “Mom, can I have a couple dollars for the carnival games?” Max asked.

               The Spring Fair was starting tomorrow and Billy had been working very hard to pretend that he wasn’t excited. It was almost impossible when everyone in town kept talking about it. He got it now that he’d been living here a couple months. Anything new happening was worth celebrating. A few days ago, he took the wrong turn in town by ‘accident’ so that he could see the repainted sign for the County Coroner’s office. Everyone had been talking about that too.

               “Carnival games are a waste of money.” His dad said without looking up from cutting up the meatloaf on his plate.

               Susan added more overcooked, almost grey green beans to Max’s plate. “I’m sure you can have lots of fun at the fair for free.”

               “ _Please_? You don’t have to give me my allowance the next two weeks.”

               His dad looked up from his food, which was never a good sign. “Your mother doesn’t have to give you an allowance at all.”

               “All the games are rigged anyway,” Billy cut in. “It’s a scam.”

               His dad nodded. “Billy’s right.”

               Which shocked all of them into silence for the rest of the meal.

               Later that night, once his dad was planted in front of the tv with a beer in hand, Billy opened up his closet and pulled out the hidden envelope of cash. He’d dipped into it here and there. To buy a pack of cigarettes or a gallon of gas. Once to get a six pack so that he didn’t have to keep showing up at Steve’s house empty handed. There wasn’t much left. He pulled out a twenty and transferred it to his wallet.

               He listened at the door to make sure his dad hadn’t moved then snuck across the hallway and went into Max’s room without knocking. He made sure to keep his eyes closed in case she was changing or something.

               “What the hell-”

               “Can I open my eyes?”

               “Yeah...”

               Billy looked around. He rarely came into her room. There were all kinds of new knickknacks around the place. A collection of handmade cards took up most of the surface of her dresser. He figured the ones with the drawings that didn’t look like shit were from Will and the one with the pasted on pink construction paper heart had to be from Lucas. Her skateboard was propped up in the corner waiting for a change in the weather.

               Max glared at him from her seat on her bed. She had her diary open. “What do you want?”

               “Are you stupid?”

               She considered the question for a moment. “If I say yes, will you leave?”

               “Why’d you ask in front of him? You couldn’t wait until after dinner?” It wasn’t fair to expect her to know all of the tricks and rules for a mostly conflict free existence with Neil Hargrove, but she should know better than to ask for money in front of him.

               She mumbled something and looked back down.

               “What?”

               “I was _excited_ , okay?” She slammed her diary shut. “I’m not like you.”

               “What’s that supposed to mean?”

               “Nothing.”

               Billy wanted nothing more than to point out that she was ruining his whole life. But he couldn’t because as his dad kept telling him he was too old for childish shit like that. “I’m going to the Fair with Steve. If I take you and give you a couple bucks will you hang out with your weird nerdy friends and leave us alone?”

               She scowled. “You think any of us want to hang out with you?”

               He raised an eyebrow.

               “We’ll leave you alone.”

               “And you’re not going to bitch and moan about leaving on time?” He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone except Steve, but he had the written part of his lifeguard exam the same day. He couldn't be late for that. 

               “I won’t.”

               “Promise?”

               Max paused for a moment with a thoughtful expression then nodded. “Promise.”

 

***

 

               It wasn’t raining the day of the Fair which was a minor miracle. The ground, soggy from days of downpours squelched under his boots. He’d be scraping the mud off them forever. They’d set the whole thing up in a giant empty field outside of town and Billy had to admit that with all the colorful banners it wasn’t the worst looking thing he’d ever seen.

               “You guys made it!” Steve said, as if the place was hard to find and most of the town hadn’t made it along with them.

               “Hi Steve.” Max waved, the picture of good manners and politeness.

               “Hey Maxinator.”

               Billy pulled a ten out of his wallet and offered it up to her. “Get lost.”

               “Thanks.” She pulled it from his grasp and darted towards the fair grounds. The crowds swallowed her in no time. For a moment, the thought crossed his mind that if he needed to, he wouldn’t be able to find her. He bit off a hangnail.

               “Come on.” Steve motioned for him to follow. “They’ve always got ball in the basket. You should be good at that.”

               “You’re kidding, right?” He followed him. “You want me to _pay_ to throw a ball into a hoop? We’ve got practice tomorrow. Tell me they’ve got something good like a kissing booth.”

               Steve snorted. “As if you need to pay for that.”

               “You calling me a slut, Harrington?”

               Steve smacked the back of his hand lightly into his stomach. “ _Language_. Think about the children.”

               The fair grounds welcomed them with the din of excited screams, mechanical beeps, and eager enticements to spend ‘only a quarter’ on a game. Everything smelled of frying oil and wet ground. If he ignored the last part, it reminded him of the pier in the summer.

               They wandered around for ages taking in all the sights before he let himself be convinced into bobbing for apples. Which was just plain lazy for a spring fair. He was pretty sure bobbing for apples was a fall thing. He dunked his head into the cold water and tried not to think about how many other tongues and sets of teeth had grazed the fruit floating around him. He emerged with water dripping from his hair and face all over his shirt but without an apple. Next to him Steve bit a chunk out of the apple in his hand. He spit it back out only a moment later.  

               “We have a winner!” The carnival worker lifted Steve’s hand into the air which looked ridiculous because he was shorter than him and it wasn’t a boxing match. “Come and pick your prize.”

               Billy wiped the water off his face while he waited.

               “Here.” Steve held up a tiny pink strawberry.

               “What the hell is that?”

               “It’s a scented eraser.” Steve held it out to him. “Happy birthday.”

               Which was the kind of gift he might’ve given to a guy back in California so he could call him fruity later. Sometimes to be an asshole and sometimes to feel out if he might actually be into making out under the pier once it got dark. Billy took the eraser and jammed it in the pocket of his coat next to his cigarettes before anyone could notice. It was paranoid, but better safe than sorry.

               “I'm starving,” Billy muttered. 

               They ended up sharing an enormous funnel cake covered in powdered sugar and artificial strawberry syrup. It was weird hanging out in public. They didn’t normally spend time together with other people around. Which was an arrangement he was used to. Granted, Steve never implied that he'd ruin his entire life if Billy ever told anyone about them seeing each other, but the tension of two irreconcilable worlds colliding felt familiar. 

               Someone tugged on his sleeve. “Hi Billy.”

               A girl with curly hair stared up at him. The cop’s daughter, Jane. “Uh- Hi?”

               “Hey, El.” Steve wiped syrup off his hands with a napkin and handed it over to Billy. “Where’s the rest of the gang?”

               He chucked the napkin into the nearest garbage can along with the paper plate. Kids were so fucking weird. Who nicknamed a Jane with El?

               “Independence.”

               “Is that your word of the day?” Steve asked.

               “I’m learning. Supposed to find them. The normal way.”

               Steve nodded along as if all of this made perfect sense. “You want some help?”

               She shook her head and pointed at Billy. “Pretty.”

               “What?” Billy wiped the sweat off his palms on the front of his jeans hoping they’d both think he was being gross and wiping off oil and powdered sugar.

               Jane walked towards him, then past him, and ran her hand over the plastic mane of a mechanical pony ride. “Pretty.”

               “You wanna go for a ride?” Steve asked.

               She pulled a handful of coins out of her pocket and spread them out on the palm of her hand and stuck it out to him. Which was weird. Billy didn’t really know much about kids, but she looked to be around Max’s age. She should be old enough to tell coins apart and be embarrassed to ask to get on a ride for little kids.

               “Nah.” Steve waved them away. “This one’s on me.”

               “Thank you.” She put them carefully back in her pocket.

               “Up you go then.” Steve lifted her up into the air, higher than necessary, then set her down on the ride. Which wasn’t necessary either. She was more than tall enough to get up there by herself. He held a quarter right above the slot and winked at her. “Hang on tight.”

               She gripped the handlebars with an anxious determination that made Billy uncomfortable. Steve let go of the quarter. It bounced and clanked against the metal sides of the coin box. The ride creaked into its usual gentle rocking motion with musical accompaniment. Jane kept her death grip on the ride for a few moments before her wide eyed concern melted into delight. She beamed up at Steve.

               So yeah, maybe he could kind of understand why Steve got such a kick out of babysitting these kids. Billy ended up dropping in another quarter for her when the first ride ended. He hated keeping loose change in his pockets anyway.

               “El!”

               He turned around and they were all there. Mike, Will, Dustin, Lucas, and Max. He couldn’t forget all of their names if he tried because Steve mentioned them all the time.

               Mike helped Jane off the pony and she clung onto his arm as if it were an anchor. “What’s _he_ doing here?”

               “Eating funnel cake and losing at carnival games mostly,” Steve said. “What are you guys doing?”

               Dustin stuck his thumb in Jane’s direction. “Gathering the party. Do you wanna-”

               “Why are you hanging out with him?” Mike scowled.

               “Mike,” Dustin sighed the sigh of someone in the depths of existential suffering. “We’ve talked about this. They’re _friends_ now.”

               Normally, he hated any acknowledgement of people talking about him behind his back. But this was different. People didn’t go around announcing they were friends with him unless they wanted to ride the coattails of his reputation to get out of a fight. It made him feel kind of warm. Billy rubbed the back of his neck. Something felt off. He did it again. Then looked down. The St. Christopher medallion was gone. A wave crashed over him, smashing him against a shoreline of hidden rocks and jagged bits of broken shells. And for a couple seconds, the sharp pain made everything clear. It hadn’t been the spider. This was the exchange the universe demanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I adore all of you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. <3


	22. Chapter 22

                Steve couldn’t make out most of what ended up said in light of Dustin’s announcement. All the kids except El started speaking at the same time. From the jumble of enthused and outraged ranting he managed to conclude only that they’d thoroughly debated this subject before. They weren’t listening to each other’s arguments. He glanced over at Billy, ready to offer up a sympathetic look or an eye roll. Just in case he happened to care about the opinion of ‘a bunch of little nerds’ more than he let on. Billy looked up at him. The kids’ jabber, the clangs from the food carts, the constant background hum of people gathered close together, all of it faded. Like a dial turned down on the radio.

                He’d gotten used to Billy’s expressions. The cocky grin before he tried something reckless. The lewd grin before he did that thing with his tongue. The rare genuine smile that radiated out into his whole posture. His indifferent stare. He could describe the way the lines on his forehead melted away when he floated in the pool with his eyes closed. He knew the exact shape his eyebrows dipped into when he hoovered between boredom and annoyance. And he remembered the blank stillness of his face right before rage transformed it.

                He didn’t recognize this pinched expression. Had no idea what it might mean or where it would lead.

                “Here.” Steve slapped his wallet into Dustin’s conveniently outstretched, palm up, right in the middle of an impassioned argument, hand. “Get everyone some cotton candy.”

                “You-” Dustin looked at the object in his hand, mouth still open, then stared up at him. “What?”

                “I want cotton candy.” He gave Dustin a meaningful look. “I’ll meet you guys at the booth in a minute.”

                “You heard the man.” Dustin turned to the others and pointed into the distance with the confidence of a war seasoned general. “It’s cotton candy time.”

                Later Steve would find the time to enjoy the irrational flood of pride that hit him when all of them marched forward, still arguing.  

                “Come on.” He put a hand on Billy’s shoulder and led him towards the nearby cluster of storage trailers. Nothing out of the ordinary to see here. Just two guys, sneaking off for a smoke at the Spring Fair. The boxed in space felt instinctively and irrationally safe, like a school bus in a junk yard. Billy broke free of his hold the second they disappeared from the view of the crowd.

                 “Okay…” Steve looked around to make sure there wasn’t anyone around who might become collateral damage in whatever was about to happen. “What’s going on?”

                “I lost my medallion.”

                “Your what?”

                Billy’s face scrunched up alarmingly. “My necklace.”

                “The coin thing you’re always wearing?”

                “I’m so fucking stupid.” Billy tossed his head back, eyes watery. He turned his back to him, but that didn’t hide him digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

                “Are you crying?” Steve asked because he was a lot stupider. Billy clearly didn’t want him to know that he was or at the very least wanted him to pretend he didn’t notice.

                “No.”

                Steve shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and looked around, hoping that someone might appear and mime to him what he should do next. Before this moment, it hadn’t occurred to him that Billy ever cried. Which was ridiculous. Everyone cried. He just happened to have a lot more years of practice making people cry than comforting them when they did.

                “Well, uh.” Steve cleared his throat. “You can always get a new one, right? We can drive out to Sears this weekend. They’ve got everything.”

                “It was my mom’s.” Billy sounded determined not to let his voice waver and it worked, but Steve could tell from the stiffness of his posture that it took a lot of effort. “And before you ask, she’s dead.”

                 “Oh.” He forced his feet to move him closer and put a hand on Billy’s shoulder. He slid it halfway across his back before he lost the nerve to pull him into a one-armed hug. Instead, he moved his hand up towards the back of his neck, kind of squeezed at the muscles there before letting go. “Maybe we can find it. When’s the last time you remember having it?”

                “I don’t know.” Billy wiped his hands over his face and breathed out shakily. “I don’t know. In the car? I had it in the car for sure.”

                Which only left them with the entirety of the grounds to search. No big deal.

                “Okay.” Careful and logical planning wasn’t exactly his strong suit, but hearing Dustin reason his way through more complicated problems had offered up a couple lessons. “So, we retrace our steps, right? We’ll walk back the way we came. All the way to your car.”

                “It’s fine.” Billy turned back around to face him. He’d regained his composure. If he didn’t know better, then he’d think the slight flush over his face was from the chill of standing around outside too long. “I’ve got my lifeguard test and I need to drop Max off at home before that. Just, forget it. It’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful.”

                It was an unreasonable request. He couldn’t forget it. Not when every bone in his body insisted that he find some way to _fix_ this. If he didn’t try, then for weeks he’d be tossing and turning half the night thinking about how he should’ve at least tried.

                “You need to clear your head. Go drive around. Blast some music in your car. Whatever you gotta do so you can go kick that exam’s ass. I know where you live. I can drop Max off for you.”

                Billy gnawed on his nails. “She has to be home before seven. That’s when my dad gets home from work.”

                “I’ll have her there by six forty-five.”

                “Okay.” Billy nodded. “But don’t speed. Gets dark as hell on Cherry Road. And make sure she puts on her seatbelt.”

                Under different circumstances Steve would take the opportunity to point out the irony of Billy Hargrove lecturing him about speed limits and wearing seatbelts. Instead he nodded back and said, “You got it.”

                He checked his watch. That still left him with around an hour of search time. He offered up an awkward wave, because really how was he supposed to leave this situation gracefully? And then made for the cotton candy stand. He found the kids there, standing in a half circle, faces barely visible from behind enormous globes of pink and blue sugar.

                Max noticed him first. “Where’s Billy?”

                “I told him to leave early.”

                "Ugh." She tossed her head back. “Not again. I can’t believe him. He’s supposed to be my ride.”

                “Well, I’m your ride now. Hope you don’t mind.” It hadn’t occurred to him that maybe Max wouldn’t want him to drive her. She never accepted rides from him or Jonathan. Billy always picked her up and dropped her off.

                “Oh. No. I mean, I don’t mind.”

                “Steve is a good driver,” Dustin said, handing him back his wallet. “If you get hungry, I hid a Three Musketeers under the front passenger seat.”

_You what?_

                It was the first question he wanted to ask, but that would take him down a path he didn’t have time for at this moment. He ripped off a chunk of cotton candy from Dustin and tried to look as serious as it was possible to look while holding a fluffy pink cloud. “Who wants to go on a scavenger hunt?”

                “Depends,” Lucas said. “What are we looking for and what’s the prize?”

                “Billy’s necklace. It’s this little gold coin thing. And uh- I don’t know. Whatever’s left in my wallet?”  

                El pointed to the center of her chest and Steve wasn’t sure if she was volunteering or confirming her understanding of a necklace, but either way he smiled at her.

                “No.” Mike crossed his arms. “We are _not_ wasting any more of our time here on that jerk.”

                "Mike." El tugged on his hand. “We should help."

                “We don’t have to help everyone _all_ the time.” Mike lowered his voice. “We almost died helping a couple months ago. And he’s worse than the you know what’s.”

                “Don’t be dramatic,” Max snapped. “He’s an asshole, not a monster from another dimension.”

                “Yeah.” Mike glared. “He’s _worse_ , at least the monsters don’t know any better. I can’t believe you’re defending him after everything he did to Lucas and Steve.”

                “Mike, man. Come on.” Lucas made a slicing motion over his neck. “I told you, I’m done talking about that shit.”

                “Fine. Do what you want.” Mike shrugged. “Come on, El. We haven’t been to the photobooth yet.”

                Max took a hold of El’s other hand. “You guys don’t have to do everything together. She can look for the necklace with me and you can go to the photobooth by yourself if you want.”

                Will looked between the two of them nervously.

                “Why would I go to a photobooth by myse-”

                “Okay!” Steve clapped his hands together to cut them off before the conversation spiraled further out of control. “Here’s the deal. No one has to help if they don’t want to. I’m going to start walking back the way I came and who ever wants can follow me. If not, then I’ll see all of you after school tomorrow and all of us will still be friends.”

                He shoved the glob of cotton candy into his mouth and walked off without another word. And when he turned around after walking for a couple of feet, all of them were behind him.

                Steve tried his best to retrace their steps. It probably didn't matter much anyway because they'd been everywhere. They weaved their way through all the booths and trailers eyes on the ground. He knew that it was almost hopeless. The ground was soggy and trampled by too many feet. A single ill placed step would sink a necklace into the depths of the mud. Still, a part of him hoped. They’d gone up against worse odds before and won.

 

***

                “I can’t believe we didn’t find it.” Max slumped into the passenger side of his car and put on her seat belt without being asked.

                “It could still turn up." Steve put on his best optimistic face. The one he used before every basketball game. "We can check with the lost and found again tomorrow.”

                Max didn't look convinced. “He can be such an asshole.”

                He pulled out of the parking lot without responding, because he couldn’t argue with that and he didn’t know much about Max and Billy’s relationship. They seemed to be doing a little better recently. Which wasn't a high bar considering that Max justifiably stuck a needle of tranquilizer into Billy's neck a few months ago.

                “But he’s not terrible all the time.”

                “Right.” Because admitting that he found himself looking forward to going to the library because somehow doing homework wasn’t terrible when he got to do it sitting next to Billy sounded like overkill even in his own head.

                “That necklace means a lot to him.”

                “I know. He told me.”

                “He _did_?”

                “Yeah.”

                She fell silent for so long that he glanced over to see if she’d fallen asleep after all the running around in the fresh air. But she was wide awake, staring ahead with an intense thoughtfulness that reminded him of the look Billy got whenever Will disappearing in the woods came up as a subject of conversation. They looked alike. Which Steve logically knew didn’t make sense, because they weren’t related.

                “So, you guys are… friends?”

                “Yep,” Steve said cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “Expecting my handmade friendship bracelet any day now.”

                “Makes sense.”

                “Wait, what?”

                Max grinned at him conspiratorially. “He used to make them back in California.”

                Finding out something so deliciously embarrassing about someone always gave him a bit of a thrill. He used to live for that kind of shit. Sneaking up onto the roof of a house to look through a window was useful as more than a dating strategy. “You’re messing with me.”

                “I’m not.” She laughed. “I swear. I found a whole collection of them and the threads to make them in a box under his bed.”

                Steve really couldn’t explain why he found that adorable. “I’d pay to see that.”

                “His dad threw them out.” She turned her head to look out the passenger side window. “They had this really big fight before we moved here. Neil tore up his whole room and threw out a bunch of his stuff.”

                He didn’t know how much Max knew about what he knew about Neil and Billy’s relationship. Didn't know if he was supposed to acknowledge knowing anything. The whole thing was enough to make him nauseous. “That’s… messed up.” Which was the kid friendly version of what he wanted to say.

                “I think I understand it now.”

                His heart hammered in his chest. He wasn’t sure he was ready to know whatever she had figured out. “Understand what?”

                “Why the Mind Flayer wanted to stay here.”

                It wasn't the answer he expected or wanted, but the statement hovered in the car, unable to escape. 

                “Why?” He whispered it, as if asking louder might tear open the gate and summon him back into the car.

                “It must have impressed him that a place can be so messed up without him in it.”

 

***

 

                He went back to the fair after he dropped Max off. He was supposed to be getting ready to meet Billy at the bonfire out in the woods near Sherri’s parents’ summer cabin. But he wasn’t ready to be there, surrounded by a crowd eager to party even on a Monday. The school halls would be empty tomorrow. No one admitted it, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t a mystery to any of the teachers why so many students suffered from mysterious food poisoning and headaches the day after the Spring Fair.

                The woman at the lost and found booth shook her head at him as soon as she saw him approach. He might have been a little overzealous when he asked her to triple check for the necklace earlier in the day. “No one’s turned it in.”

                “Can I leave my number with you in case they do?”

                “I'll give you a word of advice, Romeo.”

                “Uh…Sure?”

                “Buy your girlfriend a new necklace and tell her it’s the same one.” She winked at him. “I’m sure she’ll be real _appreciative_.”

                Steve scowled and walked away to the sound of her chortling. Far be it for him to claim to be a relationship expert, but even he knew that was gross and no way to treat a girlfriend or any other person for that matter.

                The grounds were emptying out. It was late on a school night for the kids and time to get ready to party for everyone older. A lot of the vendors were wrapping up for the night. He retraced his steps to the apple bobbing station, eyes on the ground. It was the most logical place for the necklace to have fallen off.

                “Sorry, I’m done for the night.” The guy working the booth stacked the giant wooden basins into the back of a truck, one after the other. “Come back tomorrow.”

                “Hey, uh, what do you do with the apples and water after you’re done for the night? Do you check them for stuff?”

                The guy wiped his hands on his jeans and narrowed his eyes. “There’s nothing in the regulations that says I gotta check for anything. I don’t know anything about any rats neither. I bring the apples in fresh every morning.”

                “Umm.” Steve forced himself to forget that he’d bitten into one of those apples. “Rats?”

                “That’s right.” The guy grunted. “Bunch of suits came by already to ask me if I’ve seen any. Don’t know what else you want from me. It’s a field. The rats live here and like to eat too. Nothing I or anyone else can do about it.”

                Steve frequently found himself confused, but most of the time he could predict when it was about to happen. Like right before he walked into a classroom. But he hadn’t seen this coming. “Look, I don’t know anything about suits or uh rats. My friend lost a necklace and I’m thinking maybe it fell into the water, so uh did you happen to check the water before you dumped it?”

                “Can’t say that I did.” The guy hesitated. “You’re not here about the rats?”

                “Definitely not.”

                “I dump the basins out there.” He pointed into the darkness. “You gotta follow the dirt path all the way out to the end. If you wanna look for a necklace out there, be my guest. But I suggest coming back tomorrow when it’s light out. Devil himself wouldn’t be able to find a sinner out there at this hour.”

                And that was how he ended up stumbling around in a pitch black field with a flashlight. He kept to the path and told himself that he didn’t need a weapon. Getting caught wandering around near the Spring Fair with a bat full of nails wasn’t something he wanted to explain. Every breath of wind sent the whole field rustling and once in a while high pitched squeaks broke out on either side of him.

                _It’s fine. There are no more monsters. The is nothing in this field. Nothing except you. And rats, apparently._

The path ended in the middle of nowhere. He cast the flashlight beam around the ground until he saw the apples. He ran the light over the heap trying to catch a glimpse of anything that might resemble a necklace. There were too many of them in a pile.

                _It can’t be worse than the tunnels._

Steve held onto the flashlight with his teeth and crouched down. The apples were slimy with water and mud. He tossed them off to the side one after another. He raked his fingers into the mud, dirt lodging itself under his nails. His sneaker slipped out from under him and his left knee landed in the soggy ground. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, because to hell with it, his clothes were ruined anyway.

                His fingers caught on something. He tugged. It wasn’t anything special. A tiny oval bit of gold stamped with a crude image of a man with a child on his shoulders hanging off a chain with a broken clasp. But in that moment, he felt like Indiana Jones holding up that golden statue right at the start of the movie. Hopefully, he wouldn’t end up in a pit full of snakes later.   

                Steve checked his watch. He was late for the bonfire. He was supposed to have met Billy there over an hour ago. But he couldn’t show up covered head to toe in mud. He clasped the necklace securely in his hand and ran the whole way back to the car. To save time. Not because he wanted to get out of that field as fast as possible, just in case.

                At home he cleaned off the medallion and chain with his mother’s jewelry polish. Then he slipped them into one of those velvet pouches that came with the jewelry when you bought it at an expensive store. If his mom asked about it, he’d tell her Nancy had a jewelry emergency or something. She’d understand.  Then he showered and ended up fussing with his hair for way too long for no reason. It wasn’t as if he had anyone to impress.

                He went over to his closet and dug out a clean pair of jeans and a black polo. Then hesitated a moment before pushing all of his clothes off to one side of the rung. It was still there. Brand new and unworn. Too small for him now. Steve ran his fingers through the suede fringe dangling from the bottom of the jacket. It was softer than he remembered. He shoved his clothes back into place and slammed the closet doors shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, thank you everyone for the kudos and comments. Next we see each other, it'll be a post season 3 world!


	23. Chapter 23

                Steve was nowhere to be found. It was annoying. A level of annoying that he put right above stepping into a tiny splash of water right after putting on a fresh pair of socks. He couldn’t walk out the front door dressed to party on a Monday night. His dad would never openly allow him to go out and get wasted on a school night. But he also wouldn’t go looking for him tonight. No one would be looking for him. They hadn’t done the cake and balloons bullshit since his mom died. Which was honestly the greatest gift he’d ever gotten. Billy could go the entire rest of his life without getting berated ever again for cutting the cake crooked.

                The point being, that he’d snuck out through his window and walked to the bonfire. His window wasn’t designed for those kinds of acrobatics anymore than the roads of Hawkins were designed for pedestrians. And Steve wasn’t at the bonfire. It was rude. They were supposed to be friends. Who invited their friend to a bonfire on their birthday and flaked on them?

                _Disappointed_.

                Some part of his brain insisted on defining his feelings accurately. That part of his brain was stupid. It was nothing more than another party in the woods. It wasn’t as if Steve being there would magically transform it into something better. Besides, the whole vibe for the night was off. Without the medallion he felt naked. Like in a dream where he showed up to school without his clothes on. During the exam he kept trying to fiddle with it only to scrape against bare skin. He hadn’t realized how often he reached for it.

                Someone shoved a beer in his hand and yelled at him to chug, so he did. He crushed the can and tossed it somewhere into the darkness. He wandered towards the glow of the fire.

                “Billy!” Carol tripped over a branch and caught herself on his arm. “You’re here!”

                “Where else would I be?” He took the bottle of whiskey out of her other hand without asking. It would drown out the part of his brain that pointed out that no matter how cocky his tone might be, the answer to his rhetorical question was depressing.

                “Come play Truth or Dare with us.”   

                “Yeah, okay.”

                Carol led him towards the fire. Someone had dragged tires and logs near one of the giant fire pits and a bunch of people were sitting around on them. There was no music, so people were sitting around and talking _._ It was fucking weird.

                Tommy slung his arm over Carol as soon as she sat down next to him on one of the logs. She snuggled into his side. It had taken him a while to figure out that Carol flirted with him in the same way he flirted with chicks. Reflexively and without genuine interest beyond a couple minutes’ worth of entertainment. Then a little longer to figure out that Tommy didn’t gravitate towards her in a primitive show of jealousy or ownership. He actually enjoyed being around her. They were a good couple. Observing it filled him with an irrational level of bitterness.

                Tommy pointed to him. “Truth or dare?”

                Billy took another swig from the bottle. Out of the corner of his eye the fire looked fuzzy and between that and the whiskey he felt warm. He was good. It could still be a good night. A decent night at least. “Dare.”

                Carol rolled her eyes. “Boring.”

                “I dare you to…” Tommy leaned forward and took the bottle away from him. “Shave your head!”

                “I swear to god.” Carol tugged the bottle out of his hand. “How many times do I have to tell you, a dare has to be something the person can do _here_. How’s he going to shave his head right now?”

                “Oh yeah. Right. Right. In that case.” Tommy raised his foot in the air and grinned. “I dare you to lick my shoe.”

                Carol smacked his leg down before Billy could tell him to go fuck himself.

                “Eww! Why do I let you play when you’re so bad at this?” She held her hand out. “I want a cigarette. I dare you to give me everything in your pockets.”

                “Not your turn to dare me,” Billy pointed out.

                “Give her everything in your pockets.” Tommy dropped his arm to Carol’s waist. “I dare you.”

                It was a lame dare. But a dare was a dare. He reached into his pockets and paused. There was something in his pocket next to the pack of cigarettes. The strawberry eraser. He’d forgotten about it. He palmed it so it would land under the under the cigarette box. There was a good chance neither one of them would notice it in the dark.

                Carol scooped the box out of his hands then squinted. She plucked the eraser out of his hand with her other hand and raised it up into the light of the fire. “Ooo! What’s this?”

                “You got a secret admirer you wanna tell us about, Hargrove?” Tommy took it from her and scratched at its surface.

                “Funny you bring that up." Billy smirked. "Your mom gave it to me last night.”

                “Suck my dick.”

                _Not for a million bucks._

                Carol pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in her mouth. “The two of you planning on spending the whole night talking shit or are we gonna play?”

                “I’m bored anyway.” Billy shrugged and reached his hand out for the eraser. They could keep the cigarettes, but he wanted his embarrassing birthday present back. People always gave him practical shit. He hadn’t gotten anything so fantastically random and useless since he was a kid.

                “Catch.” Tommy tossed it. The strawberry sailed in a neat arc and bounced off the palm of his hand right into the fire. “Oops.”

                Billy clenched his fists and stood up to punch Tommy in his stupid, happy face. He took a step forward then forced himself to unclench is hands and take a deep breath. Tommy hadn’t done it on purpose. He was drunk and didn’t know the eraser mattered. Maybe if he did then he would’ve thrown it into the flames on purpose. But either way, he was trying to be a better person or something. Not that it came with much pay off. He jabbed his finger in Tommy’s direction. “This is why we lose every fucking game. You can’t pass for shit.”

                “Get bent, Hargrove.” Tommy pulled Carol into a kiss, oblivious of how close he'd come to losing a couple of teeth.

                Billy spun around and veered off through the crowd. Someone offered him up a cup full of something dark. It tasted strong and awful. He ignored the calls of Keg King and stomped away to where the cars were parked. He needed a moment of peace and quiet to get it together. The whole damn town didn’t need to see him losing his mind because of an eraser. It was bad enough Steve saw him crying earlier.

                He slid up onto the trunk of someone’s car and set the cup down.   

                “Billy?”

                He didn’t bother turning around. He’d know that voice anywhere. “Nice of you of to show up.”

                “What are you doing out here?”

                “It’s a _bonfire_. Isn’t the whole point to be out here?” Steve had changed his clothes and done something with his hair. Probably to impress a Sandy or a Lori. It would work.

                Steve practically bounced towards him. “Close your eyes.”

                “What?”

                “Close your eyes,” Steve repeated with a maniacal grin. 

                “Hell, no.”

                “Come on.” Steve came so close to him that he was practically standing between his knees. Billy could hook his legs around him to pull him closer. “Trust me.”

                He wasn’t sure he did, but he closed his eyes anyway. The muffled sound of laughter in the distance echoed through the trees and the wind rattled like the gasping breath of someone on a ventilator. If he stayed still for a little longer he was sure he'd hear the grass trying to claw its way out from under the ground. Steve took his hand from his lap. He jumped.

                “Relax. I won’t bite.” He turned his hand palm up and set something in it before pressing his fingers closed over it. Something soft that didn’t weight much and with dangling bits of something on either side. “Okay.”          

                Billy opened his eyes and squinted. It was a jewelry bag. The kind they gave you at an expensive store when you bought your wife a ‘sorry I yanked you out of the kitchen by the hair yesterday’ present.

                “Open it.”

                “I swear if there’s a spider or some shit in here…” He pushed the bag open with his fingers and tipped it so that it would spill its contents into his hand.

                The medallion. It looked a little brighter than he remembered. He ran a finger over it to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. He tried to say something, but nothing came out. He swallowed.

                “Told you we’d find it.”

                “Max said-” When he came home after the exam to change and make sure she’d gotten home on time, she’d told him that they’d all searched the grounds. And that they hadn't found it. He’d snorted because he thought she was joking. What kind of kids would waste their time at a fair looking for a necklace? Especially after all he’d done.

                “The clasp must’ve broken when you were bobbing for apples. I found it in the field.”

                “The field?”

                “Yeah, you know.” Steve flapped his hand vaguely in the direction of the woods. “The field behind the fair. They dump all the apples out there.”

                “You cleaned it.”

                “Uhh- yeah.” Steve ran a hand through his hair nervously. “It was really muddy. It should go back to the way it- Sorry-”

                “No. I mean- This is- I’m going to repay you.”

                “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s nothing.”

                He put the medallion back in the pouch and pulled the drawstrings tight before unzipping his jacket and slipping it into the inner pocket. It wasn't the same as having it around his neck, but it would do until he could get the clasp repaired. He forced himself to make eye contact. “It’s not nothing. That's the only thing I have left of her. My dad got rid of everything else.”

                “Jesus.”

                “Doesn’t matter. Can't get rid of what's up here.” Billy tapped the side of his own head. “But it’s nice to have this one thing.”

                Steve smiled. Not like he was happy exactly. More like he wanted to show that he was content to listen.

                Billy picked up his abandoned cup of punch and took another sip from it. He didn’t need more alcohol, but he needed something to keep himself occupied. Punch dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He watched Steve’s eyes follow the drop’s journey from the corner of his mouth down the side of his chin. “What?”

                “You’re gonna mess up your shirt.”

                The punch dripped down the side of his neck. Steve’s thumb stopped the droplet and traced its path back to his mouth. The cup slipped out of his grasp. It bounced against the car and fell into the grass. The ragged edge of Steve’s nail dug into the edge of his lip, thumb heavy on his chin.

                The alcohol made him clumsy. It was the only reason he swayed forward onto his feet. The only reason his hand wrapped around the back of Steve’s neck instead of knocking his hand away. Their mouths crashed together because they were standing too close together. And if his lips happened to take advantage of the situation and turn the whole thing into a kiss, well, that was only one more predictable example of his famously poor judgement.

                Steve slid his hand down to his chest, palm right over his heart. Billy shivered, because Steve’s hand was cold. Not because he’d fantasized hundreds of times about how it would feel to have that hand glide over his bare skin. Steve splayed his fingers and pushed him back with the barest hint of pressure at the tips of his fingers.

                Billy jerked away so fast he had to steady himself. His hand hit the trunk with a loud thud. Steve’s hand remained suspended in the air. Billy waited. Blood thundered in his ears. Something squeezed his chest so tight. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. Everything faded except the long pale fingers suspended in the air and stretched out as if pressed against an invisible pane of glass.

                “Man.” Steve lowered his hand. “You are so wasted.”

                His limbs refused to obey. He told them to push off the car, to swing his fist, to scream. When that didn’t work, he told them to run. To get him as far away as possible. Out of Hawkins. Out of Indiana. Instead they gave out on him so that he collapsed back against the car. It occurred to him that he should make a joke or do something crazy. Something he could point to later when he sobered up and had to present his case for temporary insanity. But he couldn’t come up with anything.  

                “Wait here.” Steve backed up a couple steps. “I’ll bring my car around and drive you home.”

                Billy nodded numbly. Too scared that saying anything would remind Steve that he'd been to enough parties to know that they didn't end with a bunch of guys drunkenly trying to kiss each other.

                “Hey!” Tommy stumbled out from behind a tree. “Stevie! Come over here!”

                “Tommy?” Steve asked, even though it was obviously him. He went towards him. “Everything okay?”

                “You’ll never believe this. Come over here.” He waved him closer, roaring with laughter. They leaned in close to each other and dropped their voices so that he couldn’t hear them. The dark obscured most of their expressions. Billy watched them. Tommy stepped back and smacked his lips together. Then repeated the sound over and over. It took him a moment to figure it out. Those were childish kissy noises. Steve laughed. And Billy didn’t wait for them to remember that he was still there. He took off into the woods.

               

***

 

                Billy’s hands ached from gripping the steering wheel. He let go and flipped down the visor to check his hair and regretted it immediately. He looked like shit. Bloodshot eyes judged him from a pale face he barely recognized.

                Max got into the car. “What the hell happened to you?”

                “Nothing.” He slammed the visor shut and started the car. He turned on the radio then turned it back off when that didn’t help. “Drank too much.”

                They made it a block from the house before Max opened her mouth again. “Billy?”

                “What?” When she didn’t answer, he glanced over at her.

                She chewed on her lip, brow furrowed. “Are you…okay?”

                He jerked the car to the shoulder and slammed on the breaks. He managed to get the door open before his guts revolted. Violent heaves wrenched a red slurry out of him. It sounded far too loud. Sweat soaked his back. He clung to the door to keep himself from falling face first into his own vomit. He spat and heaved himself back into the car.

                “Here.” Max held out a box of apple juice.

                He rinsed his mouth with it. Which was disgusting. He was disgusting. It all kind of came full circle. “Thanks.”

                “Maybe you should stay home today?”

                Billy shook his head. Staying home wouldn’t do anything for him. The sooner he dealt with the fallout from this the better. It could only get worse from here. Better to get it over with while he felt like shit anyway. He closed the door and made it to the elementary school parking lot in blissful silence.

                “You should talk to Steve.”

                It was a good thing she said it after he put the car into park because otherwise, he would’ve crashed. “What?”

                “Don’t play dumb.” Max looked annoyed. “I know you’re not okay. And I know you guys are friends. So, this one time, can you _please_ talk to him about whatever it is instead of doing something stupid?”

                Billy closed his eyes and rested his head on the steering wheel because he was pretty sure that if he kept looking at her concerned face, he’d end up crying. There was no fixing this, but he could give her a couple hours of peace. Once word spread around the school, he figured he had two or three days tops before his dad heard about it too. And after that… well, it wouldn’t be pretty. “I’ll try.” He sat up and found her still sitting in the car. “You’re gonna be late.”

                She got out of the car then turned back around. “Can we get milkshakes after school?”

                They used to do that in California. When they weren’t busy bickering and hating each other’s guts. Just the thought of a milkshake made his stomach churn. “Sure.”

                She smiled hesitantly. “See you after school.”

                Billy went to his locker expecting the worst. It would be there in permanent marker or spray paint. Those three letters fit perfectly across a locker door in neat horizontal rows or in a sloppy diagonal. He knew. He’d scrawled them on a locker once. They guy hadn’t finished out the school year. He didn’t know if he’d dropped out or switched schools. No one knew, because no one had cared to ask.

                The locker greeted him, beige and unadorned by slurs. Billy spun the lock too far, past the second number of his combination _._ He fumbled with the dial to reset and try again. When the door opened with its usual metallic squeak, a loose sheet of paper fluttered to the ground. He could see the dark imprint of a blue pen on the order side. A note. He picked it up and unfolded it.

                _What are your plans for the summer?_

He crumpled it up and threw it back in his locker. It was the English class prompt from Friday. The dread slipped lower into his gut. They hadn’t bothered with a threatening note, slurs, or a crude drawing. Which meant they’d planned something much worse for later. He wondered idly if they’d wait until the end of the day to rearrange his face or if they’d get impatient and find him at lunch. A hand dropped on his shoulder. He swung around ready to punch the first asshole within reach right in the nose.

                “Whoa!” Steve stumbled back and raised his hands in surrender. His eyes widened and he took off down the hallway, around the corner and out of sight.

                It stung worse than any smack across the face his father doled out. A couple hours ago they’d been friends. _Good_ friends. Steve had spent hours in some muddy field searching for his medallion. And he'd ruined everything with one stupid decision. Billy wiped his nose with the back of his hand to ward away the sniffle threatening to emerge. _Fucking pollen._ Steve jogged back around the corner, an enormous wad of toilet paper clutched in his hands. And Billy had to give him points for creativity, because he really had no clue where this was going.

                “Here.” Steve held the bundle out to him. “Oh my god, your hand too. What happened to you?”

                Billy looked down. Spatters of red appeared on his shirt. Blood. _Oh._ He took the toilet paper and bunched it up under his nose. He could taste the blood. “It’s nothing. Just a nosebleed.”

                “Jesus.”

                “Used to get these all the time as a kid.” He tossed his head back. “Dry sinuses.”

                His sinuses used to dry out an hour or so before school ended on the days when his dad gave him _that_ look at breakfast and told him they’d be having a _talk_ after school. Whatever. He’d grown out of it. He hadn’t gotten a spontaneous nosebleed since elementary school.

                “Not like that.” Steve moved around to his side and cradled a hand around the back of his head, fingers catching on his curls. He nudged his head forward. “If you lean back, the blood goes down your throat.”

                “I’dl ruin my shirp,” he protested, weakly. Too surprised to put up a fight.

                “That’s because you’re pinching it wrong. You’ve got to go up higher.” Instead of letting him figure it out like a normal person Steve put a hand over his and guided it. “Right _there._ ”

                Billy trembled under the touch. It was going to be okay. Because they were still friends. Whatever he'd said to Tommy, he didn’t preface touching him with a version of ‘don’t take this the wrong way’. He hadn't made a single joke. Steve must have noticed, because he slid his hand out of his hair and wrapped him in a one-armed embrace.

                “Hey.” He let go of his hand and gripped him right above the elbow on his other side. Firmly, but not painfully so, as if preparing to hold him upright. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Do you need to sit?”

                He didn’t trust his voice, so he shook his head and let himself float in the steadiness of Steve’s hold. They were in the middle of the hallway. At any moment someone could burst in and see them together. It was dangerous. But he'd never appreciated the illusion of safety more.

                “I don't know about you, but I'd kill for a popsicle," Steve said. "Let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

                And god, he wanted to say yes. He couldn’t though. The first and only time he’d cut class he’d gotten kicked out of the house for a week. This time it might be for good. “I can’t, my dad-”

                “They don’t call or mail anything home. Not if someone takes you home sick.” Steve grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “And you look _really_ sick. Don’t you feel sick?”

                Billy definitely felt sick, for non-sinus related reasons. No one was going to believe a nosebleed required him to skip a whole day of classes. But he couldn’t say no to Steve’s excited face. “Yeah. Okay.”

                Steve led him down the hallway to the main office at the pace of a snail. He couldn’t tell if Steve genuinely believed he couldn’t walk faster or if he’d decided to play up his illness just in case one of the secretaries happened to be watching them. Steve dropped his hands from him right by the door.

                “Wait.” He moved the toilet paper away from his face and dabbed at his nose with his hand. He wasn’t even bleeding anymore. “This is a bad-”

                Steve spun around on his heels to face him, finger guns at the ready, and _winked_ at him. Honest to god, winked. “Trust me.”

                He didn’t even get a chance to respond before Steve turned the doorknob with one hand, grabbed the sleeve of his jacket with the other and swung them both into the office. Steve sprawled his arm right over the counter and leaned forward over it. “Mrs. Pierce, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve got a serious emergency on my hands.”

                Mrs. Pierce pushed the glasses up on her nose and stared up at them with a pinched mouth. Her gaze lingered on the splotches of blood on his shirt. “Mr. Harrington. Mr. Hargrove. Have the two of you been fighting?”

                “Us? Fellow students?” Steve put a hand to his chest in the perfect imitation of an affronted damsel in distress. “Fighting? On school property? Never. No. You see, Billy’s not feeling well. Started bleeding right out of nowhere. Needs to go home right away.”

                Mrs. Pierce picked up the stack of papers in front of her and hit them against the desk a couple of times to neaten the pile. “Wait one moment.”

                She disappeared into the backroom, heels clicking. Steve leaned over the counter and fished a lollipop out of the glass jar next to her phone, slid it into the back pocket of his jeans and kept his hand there.

                “I’ve got your file here, Mr. Hargrove.” Mrs. Pierce flipped open the folder in her hands. “Says here, to call your father at work in case of any emergency.”

                The blood drained from his face so fast he felt the swooping rush of it. He was fucked. He’d let a pretty boy turn his head again. And it was going to end exactly the way it did last time.

                “Mrs. Pierce, I’m offended. You think I won’t get him home safe and sound? I’m a great babysitter. Everyone in town knows that.”

                “And compromise a whole day of your education in the process?”

                “I caught a serious case of senioritis. Doctors say I’ll never recover. It’s tragic, really.”

                Mrs. Pierce pursed her lips again, but the corners of her eyes betrayed a trace of amusement. She shook her head at them. “Oh, go on then. Get out of here before someone sees you. I’ll send a note to your teachers.”

                Steve grinned at her shamelessly. “You are _saving_ our lives.”

                She scowled at him and grabbed a lollipop from the jar, yanked it out of Steve’s reach when he held his hand out for it, and held it out to Billy. “Here you go, dear. Feel better.”

                “Thank you.” Billy took it from her with his less bloody hand.

                Steve barreled past him and held the door open with a theatrical flourish. “After you.”

                A few minutes later he found himself sinking low in the passenger side of the Beemer outside the Fair Mart. His dad was at work. He’d watched him leave at six in the morning. That didn’t mean anything though. It would be exactly like his dad to do some crazy shit like driving to a random store he’d never set foot in on his lunch break only to catch him cutting school. He didn’t have to wait long though. Steve emerged only a few moments later, a giant slurpee in one hand and a bomb pop in the other. He went around to pass the drink to him through the window then back around to the driver’s side.

                “Open that up for me, would you?” He tossed him the popsicle.

                Normally, he’d make some crack about him being too rich and spoiled to do anything for himself. But this time he didn’t. The least he could do was keep his mouth shut for once. Billy set the cold drink between his feet, pulled the wrapper open, and peeled it down a bit before offering it back to him.

                Steve reversed out of the Fair Mart parking lot, pulled the popsicle free of the wrapper and shoved the entire thing in his mouth in one go. Billy turned his face into the almost warm wind. Closed his eyes and let himself pretend they were in California. About to drive down to the beach and walk around on the boardwalk until they got hungry and bought a paper tray of salty fries, fresh out of a fryer.

                “Hey.” Steve shook his shoulder. “We’re here.”

                Billy jolted, the drink between his feet exploded all over his shoes and the floorboard. He tried to right it, but his sleep clumsy feet only knocked the cup over, spilling the rest of its contents. He didn’t remember getting sleepy. “Shit.”

                He looked around as if he was going to find a roll of paper towels conveniently waiting to rescue him from his fuck up. There wasn't a person on the planet that wouldn't tear him a new one for doing that kind of damage to their car. And after last night he had to be on thin ice at best.

                Steve stepped out of the car. “Just leave it.”

                “Fuck.” Billy stumbled out and tried to scoop the red slush back into the cup with the plastic lid. It only smeared everything deeper into the floor mat. He straightened up with the cup and lid in his hands. “Shit. I promise I’ll pay for the-”

                Steve took the cup and lid from him and tossed them both back to the floor of the car before slamming the door shut. “I’ll clean it later.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Come on. I think you’re gonna like this.”

                It took Billy a couple seconds to recover and follow him. He looked around. They were in the middle of the woods and it kind of looked like everywhere else with trees except he could tell they were actually out in the wilderness instead of an extension someone’s backyard. The trees were thicker, and it was quiet. He followed Steve down the trail. The trees didn’t thin out, they just stopped a few feet away from an enormous lake. It wasn’t the ocean. But it wasn’t the quarry.

                “What is this place?”

                “Lovers' Lake.” Steve pulled off his jacket and threw it over a large boulder before sitting down.

                “Let me guess. Some real _Romeo and Juliet_ shit happened here. Forbidden lovers drowned in it and they’re still down at the bottom of the lake. ”

                "Umm, no." Steve snorted. “Don't think so hard. It kind of looks like a heart from above.”

                Billy sat down next to him. The coat didn’t do much to block the cold seeping from the boulder into his bones. It was stupid to even consider bringing up last night. But he couldn't let it go unmentioned. Waiting for the moment when it would implode in his face. He had to know what Tommy knew. “Thanks.”

                “I figured you haven’t been out here yet. It sucks in winter.”

                “No.” Billy stared down at his hands and scraped at a hangnail. “I mean- Last night… Thanks for not getting weird about it.”

                “Oh.”

                He chanced a glance up, eyes catching for a moment on Steve’s lips, tinted purple from the popsicle’s blend of red and blue dye.

                “Billy, are you…”

                No one had ever asked him before. Sometimes people hurled it at him as an insult, even though they didn’t mean it the way his dad did. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence for him. Not with that word. “A queer?”

                Some unreadable emotion flickered over Steve’s face. “I was going to say, into guys.”

                He looked away. His heart pounded in his chest. He could deny it. There’d be no way to prove it. People did stupid things when they had too many drinks. People sometimes said he had a sick sense of humor. He could claim all of it was a joke, a dare, a bet. The hangnail tore off under the pressure of his nail, drawing a bright red spec of blood. He was so sick of holding the weight of the truth by himself. He wanted someone else to share the burden, just for a second. No matter the price. “Yeah.”

                “You know, I brought my first real girlfriend out here once. Brought a picnic basket and everything.”

                It was the gentlest way anyone had ever warned him away from trying anything. Steve didn’t even stress the girlfriend part, as if Billy might not pick up on the hint. They weren’t going to talk about it ever again. And that was okay. He could live with that. It was better than the alternative. “Must’ve been nice.”

                “It wasn’t.”

                Billy hummed, ready to listen to whatever story Steve wanted off his chest. “Why?”

                “I wasn’t really into her.”

                He didn’t have to be into chicks to get that. “Was she hot?”

                “Her brother was.”

_What?_

                “He had this jacket.” Steve kept his eyes fixed on the lake. “I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. Made my mom buy me the same exact one. I never wore it outside though. Didn’t want him to think I was copying him and make fun of me, you know? I was thinking about it last night after... Anyway, made me realize, it was never about the jacket. Not really.”

                “What's that supposed to mean?” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.

                Steve turned to look at him with a crooked smile. “I guess, it means I like a couple of your jackets.”

                “You pushed me away...”

                “Yeah." Steve tilted his head and leaned forward tentatively.

                They hung suspended in time for a lifetime, a second, an eon, for the birth of a universe. For the length of a nervous breath. Steve closed his eyes and pressed his lips against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, without much of a spoiler, that I really got a huge kick out of the fact that Steve ended up having a scene involving a musical pony ride for little kids.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments folks! Hope this chapter lived up to the very long build up!


	24. Chapter 24

              Steve didn’t know what he expected from a proper kiss with Billy. Only that he expected it to be different. People made such a big deal out of it that it had to be different. But it wasn’t. Not really. The slight scratch of stubble and the press of a thick bicep against his chest was new. But the pleasure of a mouth responding to his wasn’t any different. A perfectly ordinary rush of nervous excitement coursed through him. It felt familiar. It felt good.

              Billy pulled away and dropped his head into his hands. “Holy fucking shit, Harrington.”

              “Yeah.” He tried not to sound too smug. “I get that a lot.”

              “Are you messing with me?”

              And that made everything fall into place. The way Billy reacted when he saw him in the hallway, his out of character silence in the car, and the strange panic over the spilled slurpee. Billy had been _scared_. Of him. Of what he’d do or say. He’d been so in his head, grappling with the sudden realization that last night wasn’t the first time he’d done something a little extreme to fulfill a frantic need to make another guy smile, that he’d missed all of that.

              “I’m not.” He nudged his shoulder into him. “I swear, I’m not. You get that the thing about the jacket was like… a meteor, right?”

              Billy looked up at him, cheek resting on a fist.

              He’d never actually said the words ‘I like you’ to anyone. That was something a kid said to a playground crush. It ruined all the flirtation. But Billy kept staring at him like he didn’t get it and he didn’t want this to turn into a misunderstanding that spiraled out of control. He thought the kiss would make it clear, but Billy’s blank stare was making him doubt his strategy.

              “I don’t like your jackets. I mean- I like your jackets, but I was talking about you. That is- I like you. That’s what I meant, with the jackets.”

              “A _meteor_?”

              “Yeah.”

               Billy blinked. “You mean a _metaphor_?”

              “Right.” He could feel himself turning red. He used to be cool. He used to be smooth. He used to not do things like say meteor when he meant metaphor. Because he actually did know the difference between the two. “A metaphor.”

              Billy kept starting at him.

              Which was when it occurred to him that he might have misread the whole situation. Billy had gotten drunk and kissed him. Billy was into guys. That did not mean Billy _liked_ him. He’d kissed plenty of girls after a couple drinks at a party. He hadn’t liked all those girls. Or at least he hadn’t liked _liked_ them. Not in a ‘I want to show you all my favorite places’ and ‘dig through the mud in the dark to cheer you up’ kind of way.

              “Look, I-”

              Billy burst out laughing. “You are such a dork.”

              “I am not!”

              “You brought me to _Lovers’_ Lake to make out with me.”

              “Shut up.” Steve grinned. “It’s not like that. I wanted a place where we could talk.”

              “Uhuh. _Talk._ ” Billy raised his eyebrows and smirked, cocky and confident as ever. “Is that what they call it in Hawkins?”

              “Shut up.” Steve kissed him again. Bolder this time. Let himself slip a hand around Billy’s waist. Inhaled the stale scent of cigarettes and layers of cologne that clung to his jacket. Parted his mouth wider and…

              Billy jerked away from him. “What did Tommy want?”

              “What?” Logically, there had to be a lot of things that could be a bigger turn off than hearing Tommy’s name in the middle of an attempt at a make out session. He just couldn’t think of any in that moment.

              “Last night. He wanted to talk to you.”

              Steve searched through the haze of last night. What the hell had they been talking about? He hadn’t been paying much attention. Tommy had been drunk and rambling and the story hadn’t made much sense, but he was clearly supposed to find it funny, so he’d laughed. And then by the time Carol showed up to drag Tommy away to her car, Billy was gone. He’d looked for him, but he couldn’t find him anywhere. So, he drove home and stayed up half the night trying to understand why he’d felt compelled to rescue Billy’s white shirt from a punch stain that wouldn’t wash out. And honestly, he wanted to call Dustin so he could gloat that for once he’d figured out a mystery all by himself.

              “Did he see us?”

              “If Tommy saw us, the whole town would know about it by now.”

              The relief on Billy’s face plunged him right into a pool of dread. He couldn’t call Dustin and tell him. He couldn’t tell anyone. When he’d driven them out here, he hadn’t gone so far as to think about the after. That this would be like the Upside Down. Except it would be worse. Because at least there were people he could talk to about that. People who understood. But he wasn’t so sure anyone would understand this.

              When he was a freshman there’d been an English teacher at Hawkins High. He didn’t live in town, but someone saw him in Indianapolis with another man. A friend. They lived together. There were rumors about it and Steve didn’t know if any of them were true, but once they reached the parents there was a meeting. He remembered because he was grounded, but his parents went, so he’d invited Tommy over. They’d lost track of time and Steve had to rush downstairs and distract them so that Tommy could sneak out through the back. They’d been talking about how ‘people like that’ shouldn’t be around children. It hadn’t been significant to him at the time. It wasn’t his teacher and there were more interesting things going on. But he did remember that there was a new teacher after Thanksgiving.  

              “No one can know about this.”

              “I know.”

              “I’m _serious._ My dad, the whole reason we moved here- He thinks he fixed me. That I’m banging chicks in the backseat of my Camaro every weekend.”

              “Are you?”

              “No.”

              Even with the kissing, he’d assumed that most of the stories about Billy were true. He knew that at least some of them were true. He’d seen him before making out with girls at parties. “I heard that you and Tammy-”

              “And you used to fuck Wheeler. What’s your point?”

              “It wasn’t like that. I _loved_ Nancy.”

              “Then what are you doing here?”  

              Steve knew that he should explain that as confusing as it was to discover that he wanted to make out with another guy, he wasn’t confused about Nancy or any of the girls that came before her. He’d been into all of them too. But he wasn’t sure that made any sense or that anyone would believe it.

              “I told you.” He took Billy’s hand and interlaced their fingers. They were sticky from the slurpee. “I like you.”

              Billy tensed under the touch but didn’t pull away. “Okay.”

              “No one’s going to find out.”

              Which seemed to be a good enough reassurance. Billy surged against him with a fervor that bordered on violence. It was odd to not be the one in charge. To be the one with less experience. Because based on the way Billy pressed one hand insistently against the front of his jeans and held him steady with the other on his back, this wasn’t the first time he’d done this kind of thing. Not that he wasn’t into it. He was really into it. Maybe a little too into it.  

              “Wait.”

              “What?” Billy migrated down to his neck and scraped his teeth against the juncture of his neck and jaw, right by his ear. “Don’t tell me you need candles or some shit to do this.”

              It was hard to think with the blood thundering in his ears on its way down. It wasn’t as if every time he’d done it was a chick had been a special magical experience. And he hadn’t known most of them as well as he knew Billy. But he didn’t even know what _this_ was except that it felt overwhelming in a way that made him feel a little short of breath. And he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good or bad thing.

               “No. But- It’s cold out here.”

              “Don’t worry.” Billy popped the button on his jeans. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me make you feel good.”

              “I-”

              Billy pulled back a little, moved his hand away from his zipper and rubbed his hand up and down his thigh in a way that was probably supposed to be sensual, but made Steve think about the way people rubbed theirs hands over their own thighs to ward off a chill. “You want me to stop?”

              “No.”

              What followed was probably the most unexpected and enthusiastic blowjob he’d ever experienced or observed. And Tommy once lent him a VHS tape that was supposed to be like famous for them or something. He was pretty sure he only lasted as long as he did because of the tinge of anxiety that refused to leave him. He didn’t last long at all. He’d be embarrassed about it if every part of his brain wasn’t occupied.

_I let Billy Hargrove blow me at Lovers’ Lake._

              Billy dusted dirt and crumbled leaves off his jeans and twisted his neck from side to side methodically. As if he had a well practiced post-blowjob stretching routine ready to go. He glanced at his watch. “We should get going. I need to pick up Max.”

              “I uhh yeah- Sure.” Steve zipped himself up and stood up on shaky legs. He wasn’t sure if that was due to cut off circulation from sitting on a boulder or Billy’s valiant efforts to leave him incapable of coherent speech. He snapped his jacket against his leg then put it back on.

              They walked back to the car in awkward silence. Or at least it felt awkward to Steve. He wasn’t used to making conversation after a hook up. If he was in a bed, he usually found himself drifting off within a few minutes. At a party, he could go get himself a drink. And the couple of times he’d done it in his car, it was never a far drive to drop the girl off at home or at a friend’s house. What the hell was he supposed to say?

_Thank you? That was great? What happens now?_

              It took him until he drove out onto the highway to remember. “Oh, shit. Your birthday present.”

              “Tommy threw it in the fire.”

              Steve turned his attention away from the road for far too long to study the glum expression on Billy’s face. He wondered how many people ever got to see that look. How many people got to see evidence of any emotions other than confidence and anger on his face. “You’re kidding, right? He threw your mom’s _medallion_ in the fire?”

              “What? No.” Billy patted his jacket pocket, as if to reassure himself that it was still there. “The eraser.”

              “Oh.” He’d forgotten that he’d given him that. “That wasn’t your real birthday present. Open up the glovebox.”

              Billy tore into the wrapping paper as soon as he got his hands on it. “Diamond Head?”

              “You probably have it already.” Steve wished he was more like Jonathan and could claim to know things about music. “The guy at the store said they’re a big influence for Metallica.”

              “Sucking My Love?”

              “What?”

              “Sucking My Love.” Billy tapped his finger against the track list on the back of the tape. “You got something on your mind you care to share?”

              When he bought the tape, he’d read that title and it had given him a moment of pause. It wasn’t the kind of music they played on the radio in Hawkins. He figured Billy would be into anything that would have people picketing outside the station. But he hadn’t predicted or even fantasized that it would end up relevant. But it couldn’t hurt to play along. “Maybe.”

              “Let’s have a listen, shall we?”

              Some of the lyrics were kind of muddled, but there was nothing unclear about the breathy moaning and urgent pants of ‘faster’. Maybe he’d cranked the heat up in the car a little too much.

              “Thanks. I don’t have this one.” Billy said with a suspicious casualness to his tone. “Gotta say, a couple parts sound familiar.”

              Steve kept his eyes on the road, refusing to take the bait. “Is that so?”

              “Funny thing is, I remember it being a lot louder.”

              “You don’t say.”

               “Yeah.” Billy’s eyes glimmered as a filthy grin spread over his face. “And it didn’t last anywhere near this long.”  

 

***

              “What’s wrong?”

              Steve swallowed a half chewed pizza crust. “Nothing. Why?”

              “Well,” Dustin stabbed his straw against the table to extract it from its paper sleeve. “You haven’t asked me about my science presentation, it went great by the way. And you’ve had a weird look on your face ever since you picked me up.”

              “It’s not a weird look. I’m thinking.”

              Dustin stuck the straw in his glass of soda. “So, I ask again. What’s wrong?”

              “Oh, ha-ha.”

              Most of the town was back at the Spring Festival for a second day of the same carnival games and greasy food so the pizza place was empty. He’d offered to drive Dustin there after school, but he insisted that he didn’t want to go. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it might have something to do with the fact that Will had a doctor’s appointment and couldn’t go. That would leave him alone with two couples. When Tommy first started dating Carol it made hanging out together awkward. Tons of girls wanted to go on a date and make out with him, but none of them thought he was boyfriend material, so he spent a lot of time as the third wheel.

               “Is it a girl?”

              “No.” The cheese slid off his second slice of pizza as Steve yanked it out of the pie. “No. It’s not about a girl. Definitely not about a girl.”

              “So, you admit that it’s about something.”

              _Dammit._ That kid was too smart for his own good. “Can I ask you something?”

              “I’ve told you a million times. The name of the camp is Know Where, like you need to know where it is because it’s out in the middle of nowhere.”

              He needed someone to help him figure out what the hell had happened to his, past encounters with monsters aside, relatively normal life. And he had no one he could ask for advice on where to start. Nancy was a good investigator, but she was a little too good at uncovering secrets to involve. Jonathan had spent too much of his life as the ‘weird kid’ to be of any use on handling a crash out of the normal person club. Which left him with Dustin. He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to them.

              “I wanted to ask you about the Upside Down.”

              Dustin looked around too then leaned forward. “Did something happen?”

              “No.” Steve shook his head. “Nothing happened. But I’ve been thinking about when we were in the Byers’ kitchen that night. None of us knew what to do, but you did. How did you figure out all of that stuff?”

              Dustin took the cheese that had escaped off of his slice and dragged it over to his own plate. “El told us some stuff the year before that. And I inferred the rest based on my extensive knowledge of D&D. Why?”

              “I’m trying to figure something out.”

              “The library.” Dustin bit off some of the cheese and followed it with a bite of pizza. “That’s the first stop to figure out anything.”

              Steve didn’t think there was a section of the library that explained how to deal with a blowjob in the woods from a friend or more than a friend or whatever the hell he and Billy were now. Even if that section existed, he couldn’t risk getting caught browsing it.

              “What if what you’re trying to figure out is like the Upside Down? What if the library doesn’t have anything about it?”

              “The library has something about everything and if it doesn’t then they can order it for you from a different library.” Dustin took a sip of his soda. “I bet if we looked there is something there about the Upside Down. Maybe ancient legends or something.”

              “Let’s say, hypothetically, that you couldn’t wait for all of that because you needed to have it figured out by say, lunchtime tomorrow?”

              When he’d dropped off Billy by his Camaro, they hadn’t made any plans, so the next time he would see him again would be in the school cafeteria. Or maybe in the parking lot if he came in early and waited by the spot where he parked. Either way, that wasn't enough time to figure out a covert way to order and receive reading material from out of town. 

              “Hypothetically, is this about getting slurpee stains out of the floormats of your car before your parents find out?”

              “No. It’s about- Life stuff.”

              Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Right… Well, in that case you’re going to have to do exactly what we did with the Mind Flayer.”

              “Get someone to tie me to a bed and use a hot fire poker on me?” Oh god, he could imagine Billy’s face if he overheard him saying that. He took an enormous bite of his naked pizza slice and hoped he wasn't as red as the sauce.

              “Yeah…Or, you know…” Dustin looked at him with unmasked concern. “Figure it out as you go and hope for the best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the lovely comments and kudos! I know I'm a broken record in my chapter end notes, but I mean it every time.


	25. Chapter 25

              Billy battled his face for control over his expression. The moment he allowed his attention to stray it betrayed him and contorted itself into a grin. He was having a great fucking day and his face insisted on letting everyone know. Even the rumbling in his stomach couldn’t ruin his mood. Steve liked him. King fucking Steve took him to Lovers’ Lake. Steve Harrington kissed him. Steve drove out to Indianapolis to find him, Billy Hargrove, a tape he would like for his birthday.

              “What’s wrong with you?” Max shoved a strawberry milkshake right under his nose. She’d ordered it for him, which was nice even though he was pretty sure she’d paid for it with the remainder of the ten dollars he gave her for the Spring Fair.

              “Nothing. Why?”

              She sat down across from him in the booth and scowled. “You’re all…cheerful.”

              “It’s a nice day.”

              Max squinted outside skeptically. Rain pounded against the window, blurring the view of the street. “Right…”

              Billy gulped down his milkshake. He was starving. He’d skipped breakfast and lunch. If he hadn’t promised Max that they’d come here, then he’d be at home stuffing his face before his dad got home from work and told him not to ruin his appetite before dinner. Susan kept sliced ham and cheese for lunch sandwiches on the second shelf in the fridge. It wouldn’t take long to pile up a couple slices, alternating between the two, then to roll the whole thing up and scarf it down.

              “You walked home after the party last night?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Did you talk to Steve today?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Do you feel better?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Are you going to say anything other than ‘yeah’ ever again?”

              Billy smirked. “Yeah.”

              “Good.” Max pulled an envelope out of her backpack. She slid it over the table with the exaggerated slyness of a con artist in a bad movie.

              “Ugh _come_ on. What the fuck did you do now?” Billy took the envelope. “Please tell me I don’t have to forge his signature on another detention for skateboarding in the hallway.”

              His skills were useless for any of his own detentions ever since his dad attended a parent teacher conference and put two and two together. After that he made sure to notify the school to call him instead of sending notes home. But his dad would never suspect that perfect Maxine might get detentions. More importantly he’d never believe that Billy would help her with anything without a direct order and a side of ‘or else’ threats.

              “You drove me this morning. You know I didn’t bring my skateboard.”

              In the morning, he’d been busy puking and figuring out where he was going to go when he got kicked out of the house. He wouldn’t have noticed if she’d brought a spaceship with her. He tore open the envelope and pulled out a scrap of red and black fabric. “What the hell is this?”

              “It’s a bracelet. I was going to give it to you yesterday, but you got home too late. Happy birthday, dumbass.”

              Billy held it up and studied the pattern. The curls of red weaving through the black almost resembled waves. It wasn’t much of a pattern because none of the waves looked the same. The bracelet was one strong tug away from unraveling. “You made this?”

              “Yup.”

              “It’s _terrible._ ”

              “Hey.” Max kicked him under the table. “I spent like a whole two lunch breaks working on that.”

              He wondered if any of her nerdy friends had asked her why she was making a friendship bracelet and if they did ask, if she’d told them the truth. “Sounds like a real sacrifice.”

              “It was.” She managed to keep her face serious, but he could always tell the difference between her actual serious face and the fake one. “You better wear it.”

              “In your dreams.” He slipped it into his jacket pocket, next to the pouch with his mother’s medallion. “I’m only keeping it in case I get trapped in a snowstorm and need flammable trash to start a fire and stay alive.”

              “You can thank me when it saves your life.”

              Billy pulled his straw up to make a slurping sound. He did that to annoy her so many times while driving from California to Indiana that she’d dumped half a cup of warm soda in his lap somewhere in New Mexico. He bit down on the straw to grin at her.

              She kicked him again, lighter this time. “I’ve been thinking-”

              “Don’t hurt yourself.”

              It wasn’t original as far as smartass comments went, but it was a classic for a reason.

              “Shut up.” She laughed. “I’m trying to be serious.”

              “Sounds boring.” He didn’t want to talk about anything serious right now. Not when he could be riding the high of his wildest fantasies coming true. Shit like this didn’t happen in real life. Or at least it didn’t happen to people like him. “How about you tell me why you’re here instead of at the fair, wasting money?”

              She shrugged. “It’s not as fun as the pier.”

              He grunted his agreement. Nothing could compete with collapsing into warm sand after hours of carnival games and fried food. It came with the price of sand trapped in his hair for days, but it was worth it. Had Steve ever seen the ocean?

_He’s seen the ocean, idiot. His family is rich. He’s probably seen more than one ocean._

              “Besides, we never get a cake for your birthday. It’s so lame. I have to put up with your birth every day of the year. I should at least get cake once a year in exchange. But I guess a chocolate milkshake almost makes up for it.”

              “Thanks.” He kicked her back. “Write that down in a Hallmark card for me so I can treasure your heartfelt words forever.”

              “I won’t tell Neil. You know that, right?”

              He choked on a mouthful of milkshake. Billy could never figure out how much she knew. The day he got picked up by the cops she’d seen him get in the guy’s car. She was the one who told his dad it wasn’t the first time he left her alone to go somewhere. She was home that night when his dad drove him back from the police station and then tore his entire room apart. But when Susan hesitantly asked him why he was flipping the mattress and prying at the floorboards he’d shouted about looking for drugs. Which was the fake unofficial reason they moved to Hawkins. To get Billy away from junkies and bad influences. The official lie was that they needed a fresh start and that his dad had a good job opportunity. But she couldn’t possibly have missed how weird he got about Billy going out to meet a friend and the walls weren’t thick enough to block all of the things he shouted.

              “Tell him what?”

              “Anything.” The earnestness in her tone disturbed him. “I’m not a little kid anymore. You can tell me stuff.”

              “There’s nothing to tell.”

              “Fine. Whatever.” She slumped back into her seat with her arms crossed and looked out the window. Face blank and closed off. He didn’t know where she’d learned to do that. Not from Susan. Susan let her feelings flicker over her face with the force of a flare signal.

              When he was little, he’d wanted an older brother. Someone who’d scare the boys who made fun of him and stay up at night with him when he couldn’t fall asleep. A built-in friend that couldn’t abandon him because it turned out he was terrible at baseball. It was a childish wish. In reality, that imaginary older brother would’ve probably sucked at being one as much as he did.

              “I took the test to be a lifeguard at the pool this summer.”

              Max turned back to look at him. “Seriously?”

              “If I get it, I bet I could sneak you in for free sometimes.” 

              “That’d be cool.”

              It wasn’t the same thing as calling him cool. But considering no one on the planet had ever been less impressed by him than Max, it sounded like the highest form of praise.

 

***

              The next day, Steve acted like nothing happened. Exactly as he was supposed to. They’d agreed not to do anything differently when Steve dropped him off in the school parking lot the prior day. It wasn’t as if they could start sitting together at lunch without everyone talking about it. It was torture. He almost skipped basketball practice. Why were they wasting time on drills when they could be in the backseat of his Camaro? It wasn’t as if they were about to win the state championship. Except Steve showed no indication of a desire to skip practice or even slack off and sneak out early. When practice ended, he was still standing around by the sidelines talking to Tommy. As if Tommy could possibly have anything interesting to say. He left the locker room first and went to the library. That was his usual routine.

              The study room in the library greeted him with its usual stuffy embrace. He spread his books out on the table, the way he always did. He had a math test coming up and a part of him recognized that he should focus his attention on that instead of on the nagging voice in the back of his mind that insisted Steve was going to keep pretending that nothing had happened. Even when they were alone. The first time he’d messed around with Nate, they went back to acting like normal friends for a whole month.

              As if summoned by his thoughts, Steve swaggered in. He nudged the door shut with his foot then sprawled forward and planted his palms on the table. It looked deliberate, but Billy was pretty sure he did the last part because he’d lost his balance trying to execute his backwards door kick.

              Steve lowered himself down to his elbows and grinned. “Miss me?”

              _Yes._

              Billy forced himself to look down again. He wrote down a couple numbers that didn’t mean anything in his notebook. “I saw you like ten minutes ago.”

              “That’s not a no.” Steve tapped his finger against the page. “And x is not 36. This is why I keep telling you to stop being lazy and write out your work instead of doing it all in your head.”

              “I wouldn’t need to write it out if you weren’t distracting me.”

              Steve uhuhed him in the same way he uhuhed Scott whenever he bragged about doing it with some girl from out of town every other day. Maybe with slightly more disbelief. He sat down next to him and dug his history book out of his backpack.

              The shitty cheap eraser on the back of his pencil spread a pale grey smudge over the page when he tried to get rid of the 36. Billy glared at it as if that might get either the eraser or the page to cooperate then ripped the whole page out of his notebook and tossed it into the corner of the room. They'd never had the money to waste on better school supplies, but sometimes it still pissed him off.

              Steve raised his eyebrows. “Everything okay?”

              “Yeah. Great.”

              “Need some help?”

              “No.”

              “We did a bunch of these last week and you got all of them right. You’ll be fine.” Steve put his hand over his and squeezed lightly. “Stop stressing yourself out.”

              Billy yanked his hand away. “Not here.”

              He wasn’t sure if he was more irritated or impressed that Steve thought he was going to risk sucking him off in the school library. He waited for the hand to return and the instance that it would help him relax and get his mind off things. The odds were pretty good that if Steve badgered him about it a couple more times, he’d give in.

              Steve pulled his hand back to his history book. “If I say something, do you promise not to get mad?”

              “How can I promise not to get mad if I have no idea what you’re going to say?”

 _There’s no reason to get upset, Billy._ His mom used to say that to him as if somehow that was going to calm down whatever storm of emotion happened to takeover in that moment.

              “Okay. If I say something, do you promise to think about it for a few minutes and not storm out?” Steve amended.

              He nodded.

              “You get so worked up when you can’t figure out how to solve something right away that it kills your focus. Just… If you could be half as patient with yourself as you are with me when you’re explaining why my essays make no sense then you wouldn’t make as many mistakes.”

              It didn’t make him mad, but it made him…something. He wasn’t sure what. Exposed maybe. He grunted noncommittally in response and turned back to his notebook. Steve let him hunch his shoulders and retreat into the frustrating safety of problems that had solutions.

              After Nate, he promised himself he’d never mess around with another friend. Actually, after Nate, he promised himself he’d never mess around with another guy. He got himself a girlfriend. She was popular. She thought he was hot. All the guys on the basketball team thought she was a hot. They were a perfect match. He sat with her in the cafeteria at lunch time and waited around by her locker at the end of the day to help her carry her books to her car. One time, he brought her home and told her his dad would be home late, so she’d make out with him on the living room sofa. His dad caught them and gave him a halfhearted lecture about ending up with a kid and ruining his whole life if he wasn’t careful. 

              He tried to be into her. He listed all the reasons he should want her. Her looks. Her sense of humor. The day when for no reason at all it hit him again that his mom was dead, and she stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead instead of asking him if he wanted to talk about it. He covered a whole notebook page with reasons then burned it. His mom used to burn herbs sometimes to absorb their essence. So maybe it would work with words too. It worked about as well as the herbs shielded her from his dad. Which was to say, not at all.

              It didn’t last long. He told her in graphic and imagined detail about fucking some girl in changing room at the pier and dumped her. And as shitty as it felt to see how much he hurt her with his lie it was kinder than waiting until she figured out that he was using her. Nate had taught him that.

              So, the thing with Steve was a bad idea. One day he would be in the middle of a blowjob or a handjob and it would go from everything he’d fantasized about to not enough. And after that it wouldn’t feel good anymore. But he’d made the calculation while they walked back from the lake to the car. This thing could only last a couple months at most. After that Steve would graduate and go somewhere fancy for vacation. Or maybe he would stick around Hawkins for his final summer before he went away to an expensive college. Either way, this thing had a definite end date. He could enjoy it while it lasted. For a couple months, it would be enough.

              Steve nudged his foot against his, so lightly it could’ve been an accident.  “You’re not wearing it.”

              “What?”

              “Your mom’s medallion.”

              Billy moved his hand to his neck reflexively. He didn’t have the money to replace the whole chain. “The clasp is broken.”

              “Come over Saturday afternoon. My mom brings all her jewelry to this place in Indianapolis. I bet they could fix it so you can keep your mom’s chain. We can go together.”

              “Admit it.” Billy ran his tongue over his teeth in a way he knew was obnoxious, but somehow always worked. “You just want an excuse to get me alone in your car.”

              Steve grinned. “It’s a bonus.”

              Billy was great at flirting. He was an expert at the initial back and forth of innuendos. The part after that always made his palms sweaty. He hadn't had the time to practice a response to Steve admitting the he wanted to be alone with him. He knocked his knee against his and hoped that would convey everything he couldn’t figure out how to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer than usual wait folks! Thank you everyone for reading, leaving kudos, and writing comments. <3


	26. Chapter 26

              “Mom!” Steve thundered his way down the staircase and into the kitchen with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He was running late, but he wanted to talk to her while his dad wasn’t around. The mornings were a good time to catch her alone. His dad left for the office long before he left for school. “Mom!”

              She looked up at him from the bowl of batter she was stirring. Her apron was on which meant she planned on baking. He hoped she’d make the banana chocolate chip muffins with the crumble on top. “You know, I may be getting older, but I’m not going deaf. There’s no need to holler.”

              “Sorry.” He grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl. “What’s the name of the jewelry place you go to?”

              She poured him a glass of orange juice “Why?”

              He gulped it down to give himself a moment to think. He could tell her the truth, but that might lead to all kinds of questions he didn’t want to get into. It was bad enough that she kept asking him about why Tommy never came over anymore. “Nancy needs a necklace fixed.”

              “I thought the two of you broke up.”

              He hadn’t noticed his dad sitting in the corner of the kitchen. “We did.”

              “It’s nice you’re still friends.” His mom ripped a page out of the notepad she used to make shopping lists and scribbled on it. “It’s very mature of the both of you.”

              He shrugged. “I guess.”

              “Here is the address.” She handed him the paper. “Tell Nancy she can put it on my account.”

              “Speaking of mature,” his dad cut in. “Have you given any thought to what you plan to do with yourself this summer?”

              He’d been dodging a real conversation with his dad for weeks. When he was still with Nancy, he’d asked him if he could get a job at his office. His dad wasn’t thrilled about him postponing college, but grudgingly agreed to see if he could find something for him to do as long as he sent out college applications. But then he never got around to sending any of them and after that he never got around to letting either of his parents know about it. He wasn’t sure he wanted a job at his dad’s office anymore. Sitting behind a desk all day sounded more miserable than school.

              “Enjoy the weather? Go to the pool?” That was what he usually did with his summers and he wasn’t ready for that to end. Surely, after everything he’d been through, he deserved a couple weeks without the burden of responsibilities.

              “I haven’t seen anything in the mail for you.” His dad folded the newspaper and set it aside. “Didn’t you send in an application for early admission?”

              Steve glanced at the kitchen clock. He was going to be late anyway. He might as well get it over with. “I didn’t send any.”

              “Early applications?”

              He shook his head, even though he could tell from his dad’s tone that he already knew the answer to his own question. “Applications.”

              “Excuse me?”

              That was his prompt to apologize and attempt to explain himself. Except he didn’t want to apologize for it. School wasn’t his thing. Lots of people got by with a high school diploma. His great grandfather hadn’t finished high school and he’d started Harrington Enterprises. He would never admit it, but he'd read that in the article that came out about him a couple years ago. “I’m not going to college.”

              His dad took a deliberate sip of his coffee and set the cup down on the saucer with a loud clink of porcelain on porcelain. “If you’re not going to college, then where are you going?”

              “I don’t know.” He’d planned on giving it some thought before he got distracted by monsters and then Billy’s jeans. “I’m still figuring it out.”

              “Steve.” His mom sighed. “Aren’t you running late for school? We can talk about this more tonight.”

              “What does it matter that he’s late if he absorbs nothing while he’s there?” His dad pointed to the chair across from him. “Have a seat. We’re not finished with this conversation.”

              Even though he was the taller one, sitting across from him Steve felt the same as he used the when he was a little kid and his feet dangled in the air, unable to reach the floor from any chair intended for an adult.

              “If you want to keep living here after you graduate then you’re going to work.”

              It was kind of impressive. Usually he got threatened with nothing worse than getting grounded. This was officially the first time his dad was threatening to kick him out. Although, he supposed it didn’t exactly count as getting kicked out once he turned eighteen and graduated. “I don’t want to be a financial analyst.”

              “Good,” his dad said dryly. “Because I’m not hiring and I doubt you’ll find anyone else willing to take you for the role. I don’t care where you work. As long as it’s full time. Maybe flipping burgers will teach you the value of applying yourself. Heaven knows, nothing your mother or I try works.”

              He restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Yeah, fine. I’ll get a job.”

              “And you’re going to pay to live here.”

              “Alan-”

              “He’s going to be an adult, Coleen. He needs to start taking responsibility for himself.” His dad took another sip of coffee. “Thirty percent of whatever you’re earning and you can keep living here.”

              “Sure. Thirty percent. Whatever.” He was probably supposed to try and negotiate by making the case for paying twenty until they settled on twenty-five, but he didn’t have the energy for it. As much as he hated to admit it, his dad had a point. He had to figure something out. He couldn’t live at home and bicker with his dad about his future indefinitely. Besides, how bad could flipping burgers be?

 

              ***

              “Whatever you do, don’t get a job anywhere with a fryer.” Jonathan bit into his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “The grease gets into everything. My mom hasn’t worked at the diner for years and I swear sometimes I still catch a whiff of onion rings on her.”

              Nancy rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

              “I should’ve tried to get a job at the pool.” He could’ve spent the entire summer watching Billy strut around without a shirt on.

              “You burn when you’re out in the sun too long.” Nancy wrinkled her nose. “Red and peeling is not a good look on you.”

              “ _Thanks_.” His parents had another house up in Michigan City and they’d driven there for a long weekend last summer. Which was a testament to how much his parents liked Nancy because they never would’ve trusted him to go up there with any other girl or with any of his friends. Either way, they’d spent most of their time at the beach and lathering himself in sunscreen hadn’t prevented him from coming back red as a lobster.

              “There’s going to be a job fair next week,” Jonathan said. “In the parking lot of the new mall. We can go together if you want.”  

              “I keep telling him he doesn’t need to go. The _Hawkins Post_ offered us both interviews.”

              Jonathan hunched in on himself under the force of her proud smile. “I need a backup plan in case I don’t get it.”

              “Well, you definitely won’t get it with that attitude or without a suit.”

              “I have a suit.”

              “It’s a funeral suit.”

              “Some of us-”

              “Can Billy come with us Friday?” He was planning on working up to asking about it, but this was a surefire way to cut off their argument.

              “You’re kidding, right?” Nancy looked exasperated, although he wasn’t sure how much of it related to his question and how much of it was the suit debate’s fault. “I can’t believe the two of you still spend time together studying or whatever it is you actually do together.”

              Steve wondered what she would think if she knew the details of what they were actually doing together besides studying. Judging by her reaction to this, it wouldn’t be anything good. She wasn’t planning on joining him and Jonathan at the baseball field to help Will prepare for tryouts. It shouldn’t matter to her if Billy came along.

              “Have you seen him play basketball?” Steve asked before remembering that she hadn’t. They’d broken up before the season started so she hadn’t been to any games since Billy joined the team. “He’s really good. He can help.”

              “Last I checked, basketball and baseball are completely different sports.”

              “He’s athletic.”

              “He’s an asshole.”

              It shouldn’t upset him as much as it did. Nancy didn’t know Billy the way he did. She only knew secondhand that he’d apologized. She didn’t know that they did more than study together. Still, he couldn’t help the defensiveness that crept into his voice. “He’s my friend.”

              Nancy pointed with her thumb behind herself to where Billy was sitting across from Tommy. She didn’t need to turn around because he always sat in the same place. “Your _friend_ tripped Scott in the hallway five minutes ago.”

              “Scott’s an asshole.”

              “Well,” Nancy crossed her arms. “At least we agree on something.”

              “He can come,” Jonathan said. “I think Will would like that.”

              Judging by the shock on Nancy’s face they both also agreed that this was not the response either one of them expected. So, he did what his mom would call ‘the mature thing’ and said, “Nancy’s right. You can’t wear a funeral suit to an interview.”

 

***

              “No.”

              Steve groaned. “Come on. It’ll be fun. You can show off and you’ll like Jonathan. He’s got way better taste in music than I do.”

              They were killing time until the kids got out of class. Rain pounded against the car blurring the view through the windows and muffling the sound of feet slapping against wet ground as everyone rushed to get into their cars.

              “Sweet of you.” Billy somehow managed to look good even with water dripping from his curls. He pulled a cigarette out with deliberate slowness. “Trying to set me up for when you’re off at college in a few months.”

              “First of all, Jonathan would never be into you. He’s dating Nancy-”

              “You dated Nancy.”

              “Secondly,” Steve continued. “I’m not going to college.”

              Billy leaned into the flame of his lighter. “Cushy job at the family office all lined up?”

              It was probably the only chance he would ever get to feel smug about saying, “Starcourt Mall, hopefully. I hear there’s going to be a Burger King.”

              The cigarette dangled from Billy’s mouth, at risk of tumbling into his lap. “You’re kidding, right?”

              “Nope.”

              “Your parents are filthy rich and you’re going to stay _here_? In Hawkins?” He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. “Don’t you want to go to the big city or something?”

              Filthy rich was an overstatement. But then again, they were sitting in a BMW that he was pretty sure cost his dad about as much as Ms. Byers made in a year so he didn’t argue. “You mean New York?”

              “New York?” Billy smirked. “That’s a bit advanced for a corn-fed boy like you, isn’t it? I was thinking… Indianapolis.”

              Steve snorted. “Fuck you.”

              “Maybe later.”

              He’d walked right into that one. And as intriguing as it would be to follow up on that, he was on a mission. People couldn’t know that they were doing whatever it was they were doing, but they could know that they were friends. At least the people who mattered. That would make it a lot easier to explain why they were doing things like sitting in his car after school and taking trips to Indianapolis together. “Come on, come with me.”

              Billy waggled his eyebrows. “That a promise, Harrington?”

              He held his hand out for the cigarette and let their fingers graze together a moment longer than necessary before taking it. No one seeing them would notice that even if they could see through the rain splattered windows. “Why don’t you want to go?”

              “Baseball is stupid.”

              There had to be more to it. Billy never wasted an opportunity to voice his opinion on the exact details of what made something stupid. Steve pulled on the cigarette even though he could see Dustin’s disappointed expression as he did it. “We can hang out after. I wanna show you something.”

              “I don’t get it.” Billy snatched the cigarette back from him. “You could go _anywhere_. You’ve lived in this shithole your entire life. Aren’t you done with this place?

              “I don’t know.” He didn’t know how to explain it. Everyone else was eagerly talking about all the places they wanted to go and the things they wanted to do after graduation. But none of those places or things sounded appealing. If he tried, he could convince his dad to give him an allowance to move to Indianapolis or Chicago and then find a job there. And yet… “I don’t think Hawkins is done with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back folks!


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